


At Least, Be Human

by chattoyant



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged up JJ, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Amnesia, Cyborg!Viktor, Cyborgs, Drama, Eventual Happy Ending, Far Future, I might kill off a character, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Resistance leader Yuuri, Romance, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, aHAHHA kiLL me, oops did i say happy ending, subtle hint of otayurio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-02 22:07:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11518449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chattoyant/pseuds/chattoyant
Summary: The year is 2316.There are two types of people in this world-- those in favor of the Artificial Evolution Project and those who oppose of it.Viktor, formerly known as Combat Unit 25 Type E is a genetically and mechanically-modified super human created from the project--a unit whose sole purpose is to purge the resistance forces that threaten them under the supervision of the secretive government organization SCORCH.Katsuki Yuuri, a reserved yet charismatic young man, is the leader of a resistance faction aimed to topple down SCORCH and its cronies.Their lives intertwine with one another when Viktor discovers the terrible truth about SCORCH, sending him down a road of self-doubt and eventually into Yuuri's path.In their fight to change humanity, they remember to at least, be human.EDIT: ABANDONED FIC!!!





	1. Chapter 1

As was customary, everyone gathered before the commander in the grand reception hall to receive words of praise and encouragement after yet another successful mission in curbing the numbers of the resistance forces that dared to threaten the organization’s noble cause to bring humanity to new heights, to defy God and nature itself by evolving the species with one’s own hands.

Like any other force in SCORCH, 25E thought the rebels demented for ever opposing to such a promising future for mankind—to thrive and flourish for generations to come without worrying about the threat of an imminent end for the species.

As wicked as taking the lives of others may be, necessary evils must be done for the greater good of all of humanity.

To put it figuratively, in order to produce bountiful fruit, one must reap the good harvest and scorch the earth of unruly weeds to sow the seeds of progress and innovation.

As paradoxical as it might sound, to be human means giving up one’s own humanity. Soon enough, when the Artificial Evolution Project reaches the pinnacle of success, those who formerly opposed to it are sure to find themselves switching sides in favor of the benefits it holds

The Commander stood on top of an elevated podium, the harsh lights overhead only serving to accentuate the shadows and wrinkles on his aged face.It gave the man a dignified air of authority and an impression of a battle-hardened warrior that has seen much better days.

The Commander paced about on the podium, his gait heavy and firm before standing in place to meet the gaze of the expectant crowd.

“I would like to congratulate you all for a job well done in successfully completing the mission,” his gruff, gravelly voice resounded. “With all of your continued efforts, the numbers of the resistance forces have dwindled. Soon enough when those who oppose us are decimated, humanity will see a glorious future that the likes of them have so foolishly declined.”

“The whole of humankind owes you tremendously for your unwavering support,” the Commander added. “For abiding by the principles of this project, all of SCORCH—no, all of humanity thanks you all for helping to usher in a new age of human civilization.”

25E wondered briefly as to how the world will be if the project does succeed.

Would society build itself anew with new rules to govern it?

Would new conflicts rise between opposing forces?

Would humanity find more cracks in its façade to scrutinize and fight over and repeat the tumultuous history that has brought great nations to its knees?

No, 25E was not in a position to think of such things. He was a soldier—a pawn born for the sole purpose to be moved and ordered around like any other pieces of the game.

25E was a weapon built to be wielded by those who maneuver the strings of the organization; despite that, however, he was proud to be one of many others like himself to leave humanity’s mark in the universe—a testament to the human race’s ingenuity in preserving itself and its legacy.

He knew this was a just war—a war to free all of mankind from its biological shackles and pave a road for new ideas and possibilities that would render itself impossible with the human race’s physical limitations. Humanity would eventually rise above nature and leave the natural laws that govern the universe crumbling beneath their feet and in essence, transcending into the likenesses of gods.

“Throughout the years,” the Commander continued. “The resistance forces have tried to topple us and our vision time and time again for every man, woman and child on this planet.

He paused and then heaved his chest in to take a deep breath.

“And will we let them continue to do as they please?!” His voice boomed and reverberated against the walls of the structure.

“ _No!_ ” was the crowd’s resounding answer.

“Then let us all stand firm in our belief and show all of humanity that we are more than mere creatures—that we do not bow down to the whims of nature!” The Commander pressed a hand to his chest and then extended his arm up to the air for a salute.

“Glory to mankind!”

_Glory to mankind!_

* * *

“That mission really did a number on you, didn’t it?”

The surgeon-technician commented as he perused the extent of damage on 25E’s right arm. According to the name tag on his laboratory coat, the middle-aged man’s name was Jean-Jacques Leroy.

Now, as cyborg as the surgeon-technician may be, he and other non-combat personnel are given names rather than production line numbers.

For a while, 25E briefly wondered as to why that is the case.

There were a lot of things he did not know about SCORCH or even himself, for that matter.

He did not know where he came from or if he was ever a child at some point. If he was, then he had no recollection of it.

The earliest memory he had was waking up to bright lights that seared into his vision.

He and other combat personnel like himself lived for the rush of battle and the glory of victory. When the need to fight was no longer necessary, however, then what would become of the others?

_What would become of himself?_

Pushing these thoughts aside, 25E closed his eyes and leaned back against the armchair as he felt the cold needle of a syringe pierce through his skin and into his bloodstream as a slow, steady stream of anesthetics numbed his arm. The cyborg watched quietly as Dr. Leroy took a scalpel from a stainless steel tray and picked it up with ease in his gloved hand as it glinted and shimmered against the light given off by the lamps in the room.

“You may look away if you want to,” the doctor added as he pressed the blade of the scalpel too gently against his forearm to draw blood.

25E, however, did not look away as the doctor made a deep vertical incision against his skin, the pointed edge of the instrument leaving a trail of blood behind itself before stopping just shy of his wrist.

25E had taken enough lives to do so much as flinch at the sight of blood, let alone his own.

Dr. Leroy produced a large metal clamp from a burnished metal case and set its two flat hooks underneath the dermis on the incision site before turning a crank on the contraption to hold the gaping wound wide open, his sinews stretching as it revealed the muscle tissue underneath and the intricate yet damaged circuitry that wrapped itself like a lattice around his broken radius and ulna.

“This may take a while,” the doctor remarked upon inspecting the injuries. “But that’s nothing I can’t fix.”

Dr. Leroy cut away and removed the damaged wiring out of the way to carefully realign his fractured bones, taking expert care as to not damage the delicate blood vessels that surrounded it. As soon as the bones were back to its rightful alignment, he strategically secured a few nuts and bolts before screwing them tightly to hold the bones in place while it healed.

With steady hands, Dr. Leroy replaced the broken circuits and connected the new wiring to the old ones in the same lattice-like manner as the rest around his bones.

Setting his instruments aside, the doctor wiped his hands against the skirt of his coat before turning the crank on the clamp that was holding his wound open to release the flat hooks that anchored itself to underneath his skin and set the stained device on a tray. He threaded the eye of a curved needle and tied a small knot at the end of the length of thread.

“Alright, let me just close this up and we’re almost finished.”

The point of the needle sank into his skin to resurface and disappear beneath his arm as the doctor stitched the incision closed. He cut the remaining thread with a pair of scissors before packing the cut generously in gauze pads and bandages.

“There,” he said as he patted his hand lightly (and proudly) against his finished work. “Good as new.”

“Give it a week at most and you should be fully healed by then.”

For ordinary humans, an injury of such an extent would take weeks or even a few months to heal.

However, for 25E, he was far from ordinary. His body was engineered specifically for superhuman feats with quick recovery time being just one of them.

“Come visit me again when you’re fully healed so I can run a few tests on you,” the doctor added as he got up from his seat and took to the bin to dispose of his bloodied gloves.

25E sat up from the armchair and approached Dr. Leroy to shake his hand with his good arm.

“Thank you, doctor,” 25E responded as he shook his hand firmly, slowly loosening his grip afterwards to pull his hand away.

“It’s nothing, I was just doing my job,” he waved off with a chortle. “Anyway, you may take your leave now. I still have others to attend to,” he added as he picked up an electronic clipboard to look at the name, or rather, the production line number of his next patient.

“Just take care not to move that arm too much.”

25E nodded his head quietly in response as he was excused and went through the infirmary doors to exit the premises. As he walked through the corridor connecting to the function hall, he paused at a corner and held his arm out in front of himself to examine the doctor’s handiwork briefly before pulling his sleeve over it.

Just as he weaved his way through the throng of people, he felt a familiar figure bump up against his chest. The said figure pulled away from him to reveal a head of dark flowing hair and coppery tanned skin.

It was 13.1 E and behind her was her (overly protective) twin brother 13.0E.

25E figured that whoever came up with their production line number must have run out ideas and got away with it anyway since the two of them were twins.

“Ah, I’m so sorry!” 13.1E apologized as her amethyst eyes looked up to meet his azure gaze, prompting a flush to run across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, no, you don’t really have to work about it,” 25E assured her with a faint titter in his voice. “Are you two headed to the function hall too?”

“Actually, we just got back from eating there,” she answered as the blush on her face receded back into her skin before she turned around to look at her brother’s way. “But we wouldn’t mind keeping you company, right, 13.0?” She chuckled playfully as he nudged him at the side.

“Alright,” 13.0E grumbled as he wrapped an arm protectively around his sister’s shoulders and shot the male cyborg a wary glare. “But don’t you get any funny ideas with my sister, you hear me?”

“Stop that,” his sister groaned. “I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Don’t worry, I could never think of such things,” 25E guaranteed him.

“Yeah, you better.”

“Cut it out, 13.0!” 13.1E reprimanded her brother. “Don’t you go picking fights again! You just got back from field work and now you’re trying to get yourself injured?!”

The brother let out a defeated sigh at the scolding he received from his sister.

“Alright, I’m sorry.”

“Good.” His sister’s temper slowly dissipated as she beamed a mellow smile at him. “Now,” she slotted her arms between 25E’s left and her brother’s right, positioning herself between the two men before giving each a short glance.

“Let’s head to the function hall, shall we, gentlemen?”

“Lead the way, miss,” the silver-haired male replied as his lips curved into a grin.

The raven-haired girl led them into the function hall and sat them at a booth by the corner. She sat across the table from her brother with 25E seated beside her, which earned him a couple of occasional glares from her twin.

25E pressed a button on the booth and from the wall opened a metal panel that slid the standard tray of mush onto his table.

He was certain that the food came from pre-packaged tubes.

Not that he ate anything else, anyway.

He took his spoon with his non-dominant hand and gingerly scooped an amount of food into it before taking it into his mouth. The texture of the food (if it could even be called that) was wet and soggy on his tongue, like vegetables that had been boiled too long before it was mashed into an unidentifiable and tasteless goop.

“So,” 13.1 E begun as she crossed her arms on the table and tilted her head to look at the man beside her. “Is your arm doing alright?”

“Hm?” 25E paused in the middle of introducing a mouthful of flavorless mush between his lips. “How did you know about my arm?”

“You’re only using one hand as you eat, silly,” she laughed quietly. “It’s not that hard to figure out.”

“I must say, your observation skills are sharp, 13.1E,” he pointed out with an amused look on his face before taking in another spoonful of food.

“That’s what they all say,” she giggled softly.

25E sat in relative silence for a minute as he ate his food until he suddenly blurted out,

“Do we usually take prisoners in?”

“No, we usually don’t, I think,” violet-eyed cyborg beside him answered. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that I found it rather unusual how the higher-ups took the surviving members of the resistance raid from yesterday as prisoners instead of just killing them on the spot,” he replied as his voice took on a somber tone.

“That _is_ unusual,” she paused. “However, we are not in a position to be concerned about what the higher-ups are doing, are we?”

“She’s right,” her brother agreed. “It’s best to mind our own business rather than to stick our noses where it doesn’t belong.”

“I see.” He picked at his food absently as his mind drifted off elsewhere.

Although 25E knew his place in the organization as but a lowly pawn, his mind was brimming with questions just begging to be answered.

He was much too curious for his own good.

Someday, his curiosity could just land him in a tight spot when his urge to satisfy it backfires against all rational thought to do what is asked of himself.

What were the higher-ups doing when their backs were turned?

Just how much more was there to SCORCH?

_What were they hiding?_

25E cleared his tray and slid it back into the panel in the wall before getting up from his seat to excuse himself.

“Already? But you just got here,” 13.1E said, her tone showing the slightest hint of discontent. Perhaps she found a liking to him and was disappointed to see him off on such a short notice.

“Thank you for your company but I regret to inform you that I have to cut this short,” he smiled at the both of them apologetically. “I still have things to attend to.”

13.1 E heaved a sigh as she propped her chin up against her hand.

“Alright, if you say so,” she smiled back at him feebly. “Will I see you again sometime?”

“Of course.”

“Next time I might just hang around longer,” he resumed before following his statement with a chuckle.

“That’s a promise, alright?” 13.1E smiled at him sweetly just as he made his way to the exit.

“That’s for sure, 13.1E.” 25E gave her a playful wink before proceeding into the corridor.

 

* * *

 

Truth be told, 25E did not have things to attend to that day other than his own thoughts. In all the years of his life, well, at least those he had any sort of recollection of, he knew nothing other than to fight and to do whatever was tasked of him to do. That, however, did not mean that never for once had he questioned his purpose, his life, his meaning.

His loyalty to the organization and its cause was unwavering. He never as much as disobeyed a single order coming from his superiors.

As loyal he may be, he did still have some doubts. What he pondered upon the most was this:

 _Was_ _he fighting for the wrong side?_

_For the wrong cause?_

_For the wrong people?_

What if the resistance was right about SCORCH all along?

What if SCORCH’s so-called noble vision nothing but a façade to cloak its ulterior motives and the dark secrets the lay hidden within the deepest bowels of the organization?

_No, he must be wrong. These thoughts are nothing but fabrications conjured up by his worn-out and weary mind._

_Right?_

In the unholy hours of the night, 25E could not lie still. His body was just as restless as his mind, his eyes seeming to never give in to the peaceful lull of sleep.

With an exasperated sigh, he kicked the covers off of himself and sat up on his bed as he buried his face against his palms, begging for the phantom that was slumber to take him into its shadowy arms and give him his much-deserved rest.

25E sat idly in the same position for a solid half hour and found that his senses were very much still awake.

He could hear his own frustrated breathing and see between the gaps of his fingers the darkness taunting him with sleep that will never weigh down upon his eyelids.

Jerking his head away from his hands, the sleepless 25E pulled himself from his bed and exited his quarters to make rounds around the facility.

Perhaps a walk will tire him enough to finally slip into the arms of sweet, sweet slumber.

He walked blearily past the quarters of the silently sleeping cyborgs _(Lucky, for them, he thought.)_ and padded the floors quietly as he exited the living quarters’ wing.

Upon pushing the doors open, he found himself wandering through a long, narrow corridor, dimly lit by the subtle glow of the blue lamps on his walls that only served to increase his wakefulness even further.

The facility was deathly silent.

He could hear the padding of his own bare feet and the quiet shuffling of his clothes amplify against the long, winding walls of the corridor.

He continued his weary pacing until he found himself stopping before a fork in the road, or rather, a fork in the corridor.

The one to his left led to the infirmary and the function hall whereas the one to his right led to a restricted area of the facility in which only authorized personnel had the clearance to access. Just as he was about to take the left fork, he heard the clacking of heels and the rustling of fabric coming from the right. As he turned around, he saw the familiar laboratory coat and the head of dark hair disappear into the darkness.

_Dr. Leroy? What is he doing, up so late at night?_

He realized that he should probably be asking himself the same question too.

What other people were doing in the late hours of the night was none of his business, but then…

His curiosity got the better of him.

Silently, he turned towards the right fork and entered the corridor he saw the doctor disappear into. He treaded lightly behind Dr. Leroy stealthily so as not to draw any attention to himself.

At the end of the hallway, 25E found Dr. Leroy stopping before an electronically-locked lift. He placed his fingers over the combination panel and typed in a passcode.

_4267._

The metal doors slid open and the doctor stepped inside to select a floor from the array of buttons on the wall before the doors closed and descended to the lower levels of the facility. The LED display on top of the entrance glowed and beeped against the quiet darkness as the car made its descent to the basement floors.

_BF 1_

_BF 2_

_BF 3_

The display stopped at BF4, indicating that he had disembarked on the said floor.

25E walked towards the lift and pressed the ‘up’ button to call the car back up. As soon as the car lift stopped behind the closed doors, he took his hand to the panel and entered the passcode.

The elevator dinged as it confirmed the code and slid its doors invitingly for him to step into. Once inside the car, he turned towards the assortment of buttons that lined the right wall of the lift.

Upon pressing the button for BF4, the doors shut closed before him and then travelled down into the narrow vertical shaft. As soon as the doors opened with a ding, he stuck his head out of the lift to look around for people that might be around to spot him. As soon as he considered the coast clear, he stepped out of the car before it shut automatically behind him.

25E took in the dark, unfamiliar surroundings as he wandered through yet another corridor, its chrome walls plain and crisp compared to the metallic blue of the surface levels.

As he rounded to the left, he found a faint blue glow emanating from a slightly ajar door. Treading carefully, he approached it without so much as a single peep in his step. On the top of the door was a placard that read:

_Data Archives_

_AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY_

Taking in a deep breath, he slid the door open to its full width and found himself standing before rows upon rows of massive supercomputers, each storing hundreds of terabytes of logs and information about SCORCH and its affiliates.

 _This could be it,_ 25E thought as he stepped towards one of the computers.

_This place holds all the answers to my questions._

Flicking a switch on the machine, the computer hummed to life as the little dials and its screen lit up.

For a second, he swore he heard movement coming from one of the rows. He dismissed the thought immediately and reasoned that it must be his exhausted mind playing tricks on him. As soon as the computer finished booting up, he was greeted by the red SCORCH logo on the screen.

Beneath it read:

_SCORCH Data Archives_

_Please enter your passcode_

25E let out a sigh upon finding that of course, the archives required a passcode for one to be granted access to it. Tapping a button on the corner of the screen, a green holographic display of a keypad appeared before him.

Hovering his fingers over the keys, he entered a string of digits into the log-in screen.

_4267._

The computer beeped in error.

Of course that code wouldn’t cut it that was the passcode for the lift.

He cursed himself silently under his breath as he racked his brain for possible number combinations.

_1029_

_Error. You have two log-in attempts remaining._

_0813_

_Error. You have one log-in attempt remaining._

Heaving in a lungful of air, he bet on his luck that his last attempt would grant him access to the database. If not, then the system would alert the staff that he attempted to access the files meant only for the eyes of those who were cleared to view them.

Pursing his lips tightly, he felt his heart thrumming loudly against his ribcage in time with his nervous, ragged breathing. He placed his hands over the hologram and typed.

_0715._

He pressed Enter.

_Access granted. Welcome, Dr. Jean-Jacques Leroy._

He took a breath of relief as the screen displayed the list of previous logs, with the most recent one dated October 25, 2316 2:55 AM.

25E looked at the clock on the bottom-right corner of the screen.

 _3:01_ _AM._

The log was made not less than six minutes ago.

He tapped his finger against the latest log that bore the title “Test Subjects.”

            _The detained resistance prisoners were administered with 20 ccs of NeuroWipe intravenously on October the 25 th at 12:03 AM. Subjects exhibited signs of delirium twenty minutes after the NeuroWipe administration and had to be restrained and sedated before the drug took its full effect on each one of the subjects. An hour after the introduction of the drug into the bloodstream, test subjects showed signs of loss of cognitive function and memory. The subjects are to undergo a full-body alteration to be outfitted with the necessary mechanical parts and circuits. After said surgery, test subjects will undergo genetic modification and stem cell treatments. Once the test subjects have recovered adequately, they will be sent to rehabilitation to regain their lost cognitive skills. Once the process is complete, they will be deployed as the new additions to the SCORCH combat units._

**_Dr. Jean-Jacques Leroy_ **

**_Head of the Medical-Technical Division._ **

25E’s breath was caught at the back of his throat.

He wanted the truth and yet he never expected it to weigh so heavily upon his mind. If sensitive information like this were to be leaked, the combat forces would riot against SCORCH and bring its vision toppling down like a house of cards.

No wonder SCORCH had so many secrets to hide.

25E was trembling.

With quivering hands, he logged out of the database and shut the computer down.

Just as he was about to exit the archives, the door was blocked by the familiar form of Dr. Jean-Jacques Leroy leaning against the door frame.

The doctor eyed the cyborg cautiously as he took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled gray puffs of smoke between his parted lips.

“So you finally know SCORCH’s secret, don’t you?”

25E was a deer caught in the headlights.

He froze in place as he felt his throat go dry and raspy and his palms cold and sweaty.

He was caught red-handed.

What would they do to him if the doctor told—

Dr. Leroy dropped the cigarette to his feet and snuffed out the lit end with the heel of his shoe. “It’s a shame, 25E,” he sighed as he produced a taser gun from his coat pocket and switched the device on. A single hit from it would fry his circuits and render him comatose for weeks on end. “You were such a skilled soldier too.” Dr. Leroy stepped closer towards him as 25E backed away like prey caught in the thresholds of a predator.

“But then,” the doctor clicked his tongue before continuing. “We wouldn’t want you leaking any information now, would we?”

Dr. Jean-Jacques Leroy lunged at him and waved the extended arm holding the taser around in hopes of hitting him. 25E dodged his advances, his lightning-fast reflexes evading his attacks. From that moment on, he knew what he had to do.

_He had to leave the facility._

With a vice-like grip, he grabbed hold of the doctor’s arm and mumbled an _“I’m sorry, doctor,”_ before twisting his elbow at an odd angle. The doctor screamed in agony and dropped the taser to the floor as he held onto his broken arm.

“You little shit!” He screamed as his good arm aimed for 25E’s throat.

25E evaded and quickly got down to pick the taser up and press the live end of the weapon against the doctor’s pulse. His body shook and convulsed as the current flowed through his body before collapsing into an unconscious heap on the floor.

25E switched the taser gun off before shoving it into one of the pockets in his pants.

Crouching down on his knees, he frisked the unconscious Dr. Leroy’s clothing to search for weapons he could use.

_(Not that his fists weren’t weapons in itself.)_

In his left coat pocket, he found a pocket knife and equipped it on himself. He exited the archives and shut the door behind himself before darting towards the lift. He hastily typed in the passcode before entering the car and ascending up into the ground floor.

As the doors opened to the metallic-blue of the corridors, he bound his way through the left fork, past the function hall and the infirmary before reaching the main hall leading to the back entrance.

Outside the entrance were a pair of heavily-armed security guards stationed on their posts.

25E slipped past the entrance as soon as the sensors on the doors detected his presence.

“Hey! Who goes there?!”

Before the guard could turn around, a taser found itself on the nape of his neck.

The other security guard turned around towards 25E’s direction with a loaded rifle in hand. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, 25E yanked it away from his grasp and bent the barrel down into a right angle.

“What the—“

The guard spasmed uncontrollably as the sudden shock of electricity crackled throughout his body.

Switching the device off and stowing it away in his pocket, he dashed across the acres of land surrounding the facility and jumped over the electrified gates and out onto the road that led away from SCORCH.

He ran and ran over the vast expanse of field and under the cover of night, heading aimlessly wherever his legs would carry him.

As his vision began to cloud with the onslaught of tears, he paused a ways away from the facility. As he craned his neck up, he found that he was a great distance away from the hill on which it stood on top of. He wiped the barrage of tears streaming down his cheeks to no avail. He collapsed among the shrubbery and drew his knees to his face as sobs wracked his body for what might be the first time ever.

Everything he fought for, everything he believed in were all lies.

His life was but a hollow shell of who he even used to be.

25E _(Was that even his name?)_ pondered if he ever had a family before he was taken away, if he ever had a home to return to, if they ever missed him or if they were still alive and well. He felt furious at himself for not having one single memory of their faces, of their names, of their voices.

_He did not know who he was._

Nothing shattered his heart more than to find out that he had been fighting for the wrong cause and the wrong people.

All that he stood and lived for were nothing but sugar-coated fabrications that masked the harsh truth.

He thought of the horrified looks on the lives he had taken and ended by his own hands and felt the bitter surge of guilt and bile rise to the back of his throat.

He tipped his head forwards to hurl and empty the contents of his stomach onto the damp earth.

S _CORCH created a monster._

As he shuffled to get back on his feet, he wiped at his mouth and at his swollen red eyes with the back of his hand.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out the pocket knife and drew out its small yet sharp blade.

He rolled the sleeve of his left arm up to his elbow and let out a pained hiss as he ran the tip of the blade vertically to create a deep gash against his pale skin. He shoved his fingers into the incision and ripped the tracking chip embedded beneath his skin away from the tissues of his left arm.

He flung the chip to the ground and smashed it beneath his feet. That way, no one would know of his whereabouts.

He retracted the knife back into its plastic sleeve and slipped it back into his pocket.

He continued his long journey through the wilderness carrying nothing but the weight of his sins crawling on his back and breathing against his neck.

His legs gave in underneath him just as the first slivers of sunlight creeped out of the horizon.

_How long had he been walking?_

Exhausted and bleeding, he buckled under his knees and collapsed underneath the leafy boughs of a tree. He finally sank into the quiet embrace of slumber as the waking hours of morning dyed the blue sky in tints of gold and vermillion.

 

* * *

 

When he awoke, he found himself staring into the warm, cinnamon eyes of a young man standing before him.

“Viktor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! :D  
> chattoyant here and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of At Least, Be Human. (and sorry for the cliffhanger! :P)  
> Have you spotted the Nier Automata reference? :DDD  
> Anyway, I would like to thank my AMZING beta Krissy Lewis for taking the time to contribute ideas with me and for editing the chapter. If it weren't for her, then this chapter would have a lot of grammar mistakes lol
> 
> Give her some love here  
> No seriously check her out her work is amazing.  
> Anyway that will be it for the first update!  
> Look forward for the next one and as always, a kudos and a comment is much appreciated!  
> Comments and kudos are the fuel to my fire!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri meets the man whom he thought has lost for the first time in six years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not beta-read so please excuse the grammar mistakes and mispelled words.

The sun had just begun to rise overhead and bathe the landscape in the bright midday light when Yuri Plisetsky pulled up the sleek hover vehicle in a wild, open field. In the distance, the SCORCH headquarters loomed mockingly at him as the sunlight glinted against the imposing enigma. Although his namesake and the rest of the resistance have expressly told him that the search for survivors from the past raid yielded nothing but the bodies of dead comrades, he insisted on continuing the search himself against their wishes.

It was 2 in the morning when he snuck into the resistance headquarters’ garage and drove out of their underwater bunker in a streamlined amphibious hovercraft. Seated beside him was one red-headed Mila Babicheva and behind him was the brooding raven-haired Georgi Popovich.

“Yuri, are you really sure you want to do this?” Mila interjected. “For all we know, he might already be gone—“

“Otabek is alive!” the blond teenager snapped at the young woman as his already pale knuckles turned white from his firm grip on the wheel before him.

Mila let out a quiet, resigned sigh beside him and chose to remain silent so as not to feed the growing anxiety forming within the pit of the boy’s mind at the mention of their lost comrade’s name.

His friend meant everything to him and Yuri would stop at nothing to find him.

_What if he does turn up, but not in the way you expect him to?_

Yuri pushed the grim thought to the back of his mind as they patrolled the vast stretch of land underneath the starry blanket of night. The cover of night made way for the fingers of morning and yet they found no sign of the missing Otabek Altin.

Yuri Plisetsky threw his head back in frustration at their fruitless efforts and muttered curses under his breath. Frantic tears formed at the corners of the boy’s eyes as his face contorted in torment and worry. Yuri usually was not one to show himself at his most vulnerable state; not especially when his mind was at the state of anxiety and disquiet. Right then, however, it did not matter to him. All that mattered to him was to find his friend alive.

He buried his face against his quivering hands before pulling himself back upright to clear the mist in his eyes. Behind him, Georgi rubbed his back soothingly as a comforting gesture and whispered words of comfort to the boy.

He heard none of them.

“Let’s search some more.”

“Are you sure about this?” Mila asked him again; a deep sense of concern was etched onto her features.

“I’m sure.” Yuri pressed his foot to the pedal and sped the vehicle up to continue his desperate search for Otabek Altin. The seventeen year-old boy drove around the dilapidated ruins of an ancient city, through the dense pine forests and traversed around the desolate fields in relative silence until the morning sky turned into noon; his eyes were fixed sharply on the road ahead of him.

“Yuri, look!” Georgi leaned against the window in the back seat and pointed to a sycamore tree in the middle of the field. From afar, he could make out the shape of a man lying against its winding roots. Yuri broke from his focused trance and darted his eyes to the direction Georgi was pointing at.

_Silver hair._

He felt his mouth go dry.

_Could it be?_

Without a second thought, Yuri Plisestky stepped out of the vehicle and sank his feet into the thick underbrush. Behind him, Mila and Georgi followed as he strode closer to the lying figure. Wild vegetation brushed against their clothed shins as the sun’s harsh rays beat down on their heads.

As Yuri Plisetsky got closer, the sound of their feet rustling against the undergrowth was drowned out by the sound of his own racing heartbeat thrumming loudly in his ears.

When they finally found themselves under the boughs of the tree, his thoughts were confirmed. Before him was a comrade of theirs that he thought had been lost to the battle six years ago.

“Viktor?” Yuri steadied is breath as he hunkered down before the man’s slumbering form.

The boy did not know how to feel. In all those years, he thought that Viktor had been taken and killed by SCORCH yet here he was, right in front of him. Looking closely, the man was a mess. His silver hair stuck out awkwardly in several places like a disheveled mess and on his cheeks were the dried track of tears. Beneath his right sleeve peeked out several bandages and on the other arm was a deep, open incision that ran from his forearm and down to his wrist, exposing the healing flesh that lay underneath. Behind him, the hem of his shirt rode up and exposed the telltale marks of a burning brand imprinted onto the skin of his lower back.

_25E._

_He’s one of them now?_

Yuri felt his heart rise to his throat.

_SCORCH had turned one of theirs into one of their own._

To him, turning former comrades against them was the biggest bird that SCORCH could ever flip to the resistance.

The thought only served to reaffirm his resentment towards the shady organization.

“Do the two of you know this SCORCH combat unit?” Georgi asked just as Yuri was extending an arm to wake Viktor up.

“Yuri, wait!” Mila cautioned the teenager just as he was about to place his hands on the sleeping man’s shoulders. Yuri drew his hand away and turned towards the young woman.

“He’s SCORCH’s, we don’t yet know if he’s hostile or not,” Mila continued as she eyed the sleeping cyborg warily.

“He’s Viktor. This idiot couldn’t even hurt a dog,” Yuri retorted. “Besides,” Yuri took a step back as he turned his head towards Georgi. “Why would a SCORCH unit be out here in the wilderness?”

“Are you saying that he’s like me?” Georgi asked as a thin curtain of calm draped over his subtly pained expression as if his own implication struck him at a sore spot.

“That could be a possibility,” Yuri answered as he watched the steady rising and falling of Viktor’s chest.

“What do you think the boss will have to say when he knows about this?” Mila spoke up.

“Katsuki won’t _know_ about this,” the blond added as he stood up from his crouching position.

“He will see it for himself.” He bent his knees together and stretched out an arm to shrug the sleeping cyborg awake.

Before his fingers could even close around his shoulder, Viktor’s immediately flew open. He was swift to respond at the unfamiliar presence as his body shot upright and his fist came whizzing towards the boy.

Yuri was quick to react and evaded the oncoming punch as he dodged to the left.

“Viktor, what the fuck—“  Yuri cussed, baffled by the sudden show of violence and aggression from his old friend.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing—“ Before he could even finish his sentence, he felt a fist connect to his temple; the force of the blow sent him flying from where he stood before his limp body crumpled to the ground with a loud thud.

He felt his vision grow dark and hazy before he was knocked out cold.

 

* * *

 

 

“Yuri!” Mila sprinted towards the knocked out teen to assess the extent of the damage Viktor inflicted upon him. She crouched before Yuri and brushed a lock of hair away from his temple to reveal an angry red cut; dark crimson blood matted his golden tresses and trickled down his ear before forming a small pool on the ground he laid on top of. Her blood ran cold at the sight and feared for the worst until she pressed her fingers to the pulse on his neck and proved her fears otherwise. She let out a momentary sigh of relief before straightening her knees back up and directed her blue gaze towards the offender standing before her.

The face before her was familiar; the look in his eyes however, certainly was not. It was as if the Viktor she once knew had been long gone only to be replaced by a hostile replica that looked exactly like the man himself.

_Why doesn’t he recognize us?_

Old friend or not, she knew that the _thing_ standing before her was a threat.

Mila reached into the holster underneath her jacket and wrapped her fingers (hesitantly) around the familiar handle and trigger. Before she could even pull her weapon out, however, Georgi lunged towards the cyborg at lightning speed and tackled him to the ground before driving his fist into his stomach with a force that virtually matched Viktor’s. The silver-haired man groaned beneath him as his punch delivered an agonizing blow to stun his opponent momentarily.

“Mila, now!” Georgi bellowed out as he pinned the man’s shoulders to the ground with a crushing force.

Mila stood frozen in place at her cue.

_“But he’s my friend—“_

_That’s not Viktor anymore._

_“No, I don’t want to kill him!”_

Mila whimpered at her own thoughts clashing with each other in her head as she unslung the rifle hanging around her shoulders and quickly loaded the barrel with a tranquilizer dart.

_There is another way._

Mila held the rifle at shoulder level and aimed the barrel at Viktor before pulling the trigger without a second of hesitation. The dart’s streamlined form zipped through the humid midday air before its pointed end landed square below Viktor’s collarbone. As the sedative made its way into his bloodstream, the struggling beneath Georgi weakened and ceased to a stop as his body went limp at the medicine’s full effect on his body. His eyes rolled back into its sockets and closed as he slipped into a state of unconsciousness.

Georgi released his grip on the man and got off him before turning towards the redhead, his face painted with a tint of slight confusion.

“Why didn’t you kill him?”

“I couldn’t,” Mila admitted quietly as she slung the rifle back around her shoulders. “There has to be another way.” She pursed her lips in a tight line as an onset of tears made its way down her blue soulful eyes.

Georgi heaved a sigh and walked towards the distressed young woman to bring his arms around her in a comforting hold. His hands rubbed calming circles around her back before pulling away from the arm-lock with a gentle smile on his face.

“I’m sure there is, Mila,” he kindly replied.

Mila wiped her eyes with her sleeve and smiled back at him as she raised her gaze towards him. “Well that was uncharacteristic of you,” she blurted out jokingly with a slight chortle in her tone. “Thank you.”

Georgi nodded quietly in response and Mila was certain he saw him redden for a moment before turning towards the casualty lying before them.

“I think it’s time to cut the search short and head back to headquarters,” he said as he walked towards the tranquilized Viktor and picked him up to carry him on his shoulders towards the vehicle with ease. Mila followed suit and picked up the bleeding young boy carefully in her arms before setting him beside the equally unconscious Viktor in the back seat. She took off the woolen scarf hanging loosely around her neck and wrapped it tightly around Yuri’s head to stop the bleeding.

“I hope this will have to do until we get back to headquarters,” Mila muttered to herself as she watched a dark red blossom bloom against the gray wool. She gave the boy’s head a thoughtful pat and a peck before extracting herself from the back of the vehicle. She shut the door behind him and then joined Georgi in the front.

“Yuri’s going to kill you for that, you know?” Georgi commented from the driver’s seat.

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him,” Mila declared with a mischievous smile before strapping herself securely to her seat.  
Georgi simply replied with an amused snicker before placing his hands on the wheel and his foot to the pedal.

 

* * *

 

Katsuki Yuuri could not believe his eyes.

The man who he thought was long gone was right before him in the flesh.

All those years, he thought the man dead. Just as he gave up the hope of ever seeing him again, the man he loved turns up before him alive when he least expected him to. The resistance leader swallowed back the lump in his throat as he felt his already-cloudy vision blur as hot, salty tears brimmed from his eyes and traced their path on his cheeks as they fell.

_Vitya is alive._

Yuuri knelt by his bedside and took the man’s hand to press his lips lovingly over the finger where a ring would have been. He felt a flood of relief wash over his grief as he pressed the man’s palm against his cheek.

 _“Like he used to,”_ he thought as he felt his warmth seep into his skin and into his entire being, proving that this moment indeed, was real.

His lips that have done nothing but frown curved gently into a genuine smile for what may be the first time since his heart-rending disappearance.

“I missed you so much,” Yuuri mumbled to himself as he brushed his silken locks from his face to reveal the otherworldly features that used to greet him every single morning. Yuuri wondered as to how a human being could possibly be this ethereal creature.

His fingers traced the long, pale eyelashes that glittered like the moonlight.

_Beautiful._

The pads of his fingers traced the soft yet sharp dip of his cheekbones and the soft, plush contour of his lips.

_Gorgeous._

_My Vitya._

“Welcome back, Viktor.”

Yuuri rose from his knees and hovered before his lover’s willowy frame before pressing his lips chastely against his to welcome the dearly-missed sensation of kissing the man before him.

“I love you so much,” he whispered softly as his lips retreated from his and left a tender kiss on his forehead. Upon pulling away, he opened his eyes and was met with a shock of blue.

His warm, earthy orbs glistened in delight upon seeing him stirring from his sleep. Viktor squinted his eyes against the light and looked around to regard the unfamiliar surroundings before his azure gaze fell on Yuuri’s.

“Who are you?”

Yuuri’s heart sank to his gut at the question.

Viktor could not have possibly forgotten about him, could he? Viktor was particularly fond of pulling pranks on Yuuri and this might as well have been one of them.

_Right?_

Yuuri pushed his doubts away and let out a good-humored laugh. “Really, Viktor? The first thing you do after seeing me again is tell jokes?” Yuuri chuckled softly and rolled his eyes.

“Viktor? Is that my name?” The man asked as if clueless. Yuuri thought that his little charade was cute and all but he wanted him to cut if off. Viktor sat up on his bed and cast his eyes down towards his open hands.

“Who…am I?”

When Yuuri saw the confused, helpless look in his eyes, that was when he realized that Viktor was not joking at all.

Viktor buried his face against his palms as his lips twisted into a grimace before his voice broke out into a sob. His shoulders heaved and shuddered as big, fat tears rolled off his eyes. His fingers moved to clutch painfully tight onto his hair as if the man himself was about to rip the silver locks off his scalp.

“I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be anymore.” His eyes were desperate and frantic as if begging for answers to the questions that needed to be answered. The man hissed between his teeth as he tried to wipe his ceaselessly flowing waterworks to no avail. Viktor raised his head and turned his floodgates towards the other man. His eyes were troubled—uneasy.

“I don’t even know who you’re supposed to be,” he admitted shamefully as his voice hitched and his labored breaths seized his throat momentarily.

In that one singular moment, Yuuri felt his heart wrench and tighten at the sight of the bright eyes that used to reflect so much hope in them dull down with fear. From the look in his eyes, he could tell that he was pained and afraid.

_But of what?_

Yuuri blinked back the tears that threatened to escape his eyelids once again as he swallowed back the beginnings of a cry in his throat.

_Just what happened to Viktor?_

Yuuri knew that whatever it was, it was bad enough to reduce the man that was happiness personified into the regretful weeping mess before him.

“I’m a monster,” he added angrily as his fingers squeezed tightly around his knees. “All I do is kill when told to do so.”

Viktor’s head hung low as his tears rained down from his eyes and splashed between his feet. Yuuri felt the hairs on the back of his neck at the mention of murder. Viktor would never kill anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. The Viktor he knew had an iron will that would never bow down to the whims of others.

That was six years ago and Viktor had changed completely since then. He had forgotten about everything—Yuuri, the resistance, and even his own name.

“This morning…” Viktor trailed off as his swollen eyes peeked through his unkempt fringe. For a moment, the man before him pursed his lips as if he was struggling to let words out of his throat before opening his mouth again to speak. “I escaped from SCORCH.”

Yuuri felt all the breath from his lungs stolen away at the unforeseen revelation.

Viktor worked for SCORCH.

_How dare he?_

He felt his blood boil and his brows furrow into a livid crease as the sympathy he had for the man evaporated from his bloodstream to be replaced with a sense of betrayal. Viktor, the man who vowed to fight by his side and never leave worked for the enemy.

_How dare he betray me?_

All those years, he thought him dead when he was working under the shadow of SCORCH after all.

The Viktor he knew was dead.

The Viktor that stood before him was nothing but a traitor.

_Viktor is a traitor._

Before Yuuri could rise to his feet and take action, he stopped on his tracks when he saw Viktor part his lips to continue speaking.

“I snuck into the archives and discovered the truth,” he continued; the look in his eyes was dark and grim. “I found out that SCORCH turned the resistance units into combat units.”

_Oh._

“SCORCH, they…” Yuuri could see the fury seething in Viktor’s veins as he clenched his fists tightly enough to leave bleeding crescent indentations on his palms. “They took away all their memories and turned them into indiscriminate murderers.”

“And…” Viktor opened his quaking hands and watched the cuts on his palms close up. He then looked into Yuuri’s eyes.

“I’m one of them.”

He felt his anger towards the wrongly-accused Viktor quickly disappear from his system as the shock of the truth weighed heavy within his chest. He felt disgusted, furious at the atrocities that SCORCH committed towards their comrades but most of all, he felt terrible for jumping to conclusions immediately and pin Viktor as a traitor when he, in fact, had no choice in the matter. Yuuri could only imagine the wars being waged inside Viktor’s mind—the battle between his humanity and his purpose. He could only fathom how much his soul burned only to be extinguished into nothing but cinders that once held light upon finding out that the very cause he believed I had sinister agendas hidden beneath the veil of secrecy after all.

The blue eyes that used to hold the sky’s boundless wonders now held nothing but a raging stormy tempest that brewed in the middle of the unforgiving sea.

“Tell me.” The angry sea-spray rose from the waves and rolled down his cheeks.

“Who am I?”

Yuuri felt the tears that he so desperately held back behind the dams that were his eyelids come gushing down the planes of his cheeks. His tearful eyes met Viktor’s as he took his hand in his and laced their fingers together like they used to.

“You are Viktor Nikiforov,” he looked thoughtfully into his sapphire orbs before pressing his lips softly against his knuckles. “The man I love, and will love for the rest of my life.”

The corners of his lips tugged into a faint yet sweet smile that held all the longing and pining that amassed within himself for the past six years. Viktor looked a little dumbfounded at the gesture as the blood rose to his cheeks and left a faint smattering of pink over his pallor complexion.

“I am…?” Viktor sniffled as he wiped the tears away from his baggy, swollen eyes. It was as if the fact that someone loved him all along flipped a switch in his brain and brought him out of the fears and regrets that inhabited the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind.

“Of course you are,” Yuuri answered him eagerly as he tightened his hold around his hand firmly. “No other moment has ever made me happier than to see you once again.” He stretched his free hand towards him to cradle his cheek affectionately.

Viktor leaned in to his touch and smiled back at the resistance leader as he put his hand gently over his. For the past six years, the fire that burned within Yuuri extinguished upon his other half’s absence. Now that Viktor was back in his life once more, the flame that died down in him flickered back to life.

“I never knew I ever had someone to return to.” Viktor smiled sadly at him as his pale eyelashes framed his downcast gaze. “Or someone who loves me, for that matter.”

“It’s not just me, Viktor.” Yuuri’s look was firm and steady yet tender and fond. His hand withdrew from his cheek to rest upon his calloused hands.

“Everyone else missed you.”

Yuuri swore he saw Viktor perk up and brighten at the mention of the many others that missed him. He had to admit to himself that he felt a bit jealous at how easily he perked up at the mention of others when he was in tears when he told him that he loved him dearly.

“They did?”

Yuuri nodded quietly as he ran the pad of his thumb to trace against the back of his hand. The fog in Viktor’s eyes cleared as his clear orbs lit up in delight and tear up not with sadness, but with pure and utter joy.

“Viktor,” Yuuri leaned closer towards the man. The look in his eyes was sincere and heartfelt.

“Do you know who I am?”

Viktor shook his head before opening his mouth to respond; he smiled sheepishly at him as his nose was tinged a rosy pink.

“My lover?”

Yuuri let out a soft yet hearty laugh at his response.

“Well, you got that part right,” Yuuri added brightly.

“I’m sorry,” Viktor apologized as his gaze strayed away from his momentarily. “I don’t remember anything.”

“It’s nothing you have to apologize for, Viktor,” Yuuri assured him as he brushed away the fringe that fell over his eyes. “I’m just happy to see you here again.” He tenderly wiped away the tears that lingered in his eyelids as his lips quivered into a happy grin.

“I know that you don’t have any memories of me or this place,” he added as he softly caressed the outlines of his cheek with the backs of his fingers before pulling his hand away.

“Which is why we’ll make new ones.”  
Yuuri stood up from his crouch and extended an arm out toward Viktor.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Viktor,” Yuuri beamed gladly towards the silver-haired man. Viktor got off his bed and stood up to take the resistance leader’s hand in his to shake it.

“My name is Katsuki Yuuri.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Sycamore tree- The sycamore tree Viktor was sleeping under is an allusion to the story of Zacchaeus in the bible. In the story, Zacchaeus was a short man who climbed up a sycamore tree just to catch a glimpse of Jesus passing through. In this story, however, you can see that Viktor, a product of SCORCH, was directly under the tree as symbol to how SCORCH did not need to climb the metaphorical tree in order to be on the same level as god when they, themselves claim that they have already ascended into the likeness of creators. Pretty conceited, if you ask me.  
> 2\. Georgi- "Are you saying that he's like me?" Any theories as to what that might mean? :^) I'll reveal his story in the later chapters of this fanfiction.  
> 3\. Otabek- any guesses as to what happened to him? :^)
> 
> Let me know your thoughts on the comments below!
> 
> Sorry if this chapter was shorter than usual since I just got back to school and I had to write this down on a notebook whenever I had free time before finally encoding it in Word and posting it here on AO3.  
> Anyway, thank you for reading and as always, a kudos and comment is always appreciated! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not beta-read so please excuse the grammar mistakes!

_He remembers the heat—_

_Remembers the iron searing into his skin_

_Remembers the smell of his own flesh,_

_The scorching numbers—_

 

_He remembers the restraints—_

_Remembers the binds digging into his wrists_

_Remembers the sight of his own bound limbs,_

_The menacing grins—_

 

_He remembers the knives—_

_Remembers the blades carving him open_

_Remembers the sound of his own screams,_

_The animalistic leers—_

 

_He remembers being cattle—_

_Remembers the branding_

_Remembers the thrashing_

_Remembers the cutting_

_He remembers being cattle_

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor woke up drenched in cold sweat.

His pupils were blown into black holes and his breath came out ragged and heavy in his chest. For the past few days, he would wake up from a restless nightmare only to lose any recollection of it upon opening his eyes. His dreams were a phantom of a memory—taunting yet never caught. It frustrated him to know that he lost all the answers he sought upon slipping back into the brightness of the waking world just as darkness would fade into light by the break of dawn. His dreams brought him the answers to his questions; it was as if the subconscious part of his mind extended a shadowy hand towards his conscious self to hand over what was lost only to slip through its ghostly fingers.

Viktor breathed an exasperated sigh as he sat up on the mattress and brushed the damp locks that clung to his forehead away from his face. He blinked once as he saw the blue glow of the lake filter through the tempered glass window. He blinked another time and a sense of panic gripped him.

His heart thrummed loudly in his ribcage as his eyes flitted through the unfamiliar room. His primal instincts told him to go—to escape, to flee—

His eyes came to rest upon the familiar blue sleeve covering his arm and his heart slowed down into its usual rhythmic pace.

_I’m in the resistance headquarters._

Viktor wanted to hit his own head for panicking over a place he had stayed the week in. Even enhanced humans have their shortcomings. He looked out of his window and saw silvery fish glimmer as they carved their path in the water behind the glass boundary. It occurred to him that he was underwater for the past week. His eyes travelled to the blue wool of his sweater and recalled that it was Yuuri’s. The other day, the resistance leader lent the other man his clothes and insisted that he wear them while his own were still in the process of being prepared.

He tugged at the neckline and poked his nose into the fabric. Peculiarly, it smelled faintly like its owner despite Viktor sweating on it the entire night. A blush made its way into his cheeks and onto the tip of his nose and pulled his face away from the soft garment.

He found that the man who literally kissed him awake now stayed an arm’s length away from him and hardly ever gave him a show of affection asides from a few hugs and pats on the back. Instead, Yuuri preferred to show his fondness towards the man by attending to his needs despite the massive load of work on his plate. . Viktor wonders where the boldness that he had seen in him a week ago had gone off to. Apparently, it had something to do with taking things slow and starting things from scratch. He insisted that to start from scratch is to re-establish connections between one another and thought it would be appropriate if they acted as such.

Viktor appreciated the thought. It bothered him, however, to know that he had no memory if Yuuri was always the same kind of man in the past. All he knew about him was that he led his own army of one thousand since the age of twenty-one, and, according to Christophe, had a great ass that could level armies in one fell swoop. Viktor vaguely remembered Christophe adding a wink to the end of his statement. Apart from that, he also noticed that despite being in command, Yuuri held no titles with everyone else simply calling him by name or ‘boss’. Viktor had gotten accustomed to formalities from working in SCORCH that he had called the man his commander on several occasions only for Yuuri to correct him and insist that he call him by name instead.

Viktor rubbed the sleep from his eyes and kicked off the covers before swinging his legs over to the side of the bed before padding barefoot towards the door. There had been shoes provided for him but he preferred feeling the cold of the floor press against his soles. He pressed a button on a panel on the wall and a rush of cool air whipped past him as the door slid open before him. Viktor stepped out of the threshold and saw the familiar chrome corridors. On its walls were doors that lead to living quarters similar to his. Strangely enough, it had an uncanny resemblance to SCORCH’s chrome and metallic blue interior.

As he walked past the doors he was met by the familiar form of the resistance leader’s right-hand man. He was a short tan-skinned man with dark hair whose personality, Viktor thought, was outspoken and quite frankly, a bit nosy. The man’s name was….Peecheet? Phichit. This Phichit, Viktor noticed, loved to pull harmless pranks on his best friend and crack jokes for his own amusement; although he could be serious when the situation calls for it, Yuuri had told him. Phichit strode up beside him and he had the look on his face as if he held the latest gossip concerning one of the resistance members.

“Morning, Viktor,” Phichit greeted. He swore he saw a hint of a mischievous grin on his face.

“Good morning, Phichit,” Viktor replied. He could not shake off the feeling that the man was up to something. Yuuri had told him that Phichit was particularly keen to make assumptions that are unfortunately, embarrassing most of the time. Phichit began to look at him suspiciously with one eye squinted as his grin extended ear to ear.

“Did you and Yuuri…do it?”

Viktor was stumped by the question.

“Excuse me?”

“You know…” Phichit leaned in closer towards the taller man and stood on his tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Did you get freaky last night?”

Viktor felt his body turn as red as a steamed shrimp at the inappropriate question. Phichit had on his face a shit-eating grin as Viktor cleared his throat and managed the most composed smile on his face, putting on an air of staged nonchalance. He cleared his throat as he willed the blush to recede back into his capillaries. He looked down at the sweater he was wearing and came to a realization. He and Yuuri must have had a habit of wearing each other’s clothes after making love in the past.

“Oh no, it’s nothing like that,” he chuckled as he waved the assumption away. “My change of clothes weren’t ready yet so Yuuri lent me some of his.”

Upon hearing his answer, Phichit backed away from the silver-haired man and put a finger to his chin as if deep in thought.

“Oh I see.”

Viktor thought that he did not the slightest bit convinced. He wondered briefly if he and Yuuri ever did get ‘freaky’ in the past as Phichit had mentioned. He wondered who laid on top of who, or who laid beneath, if they reversed roles, if he had any hidden fetishes—

The mere thought of it sent blood rushing to places he dared not admit. Now he finally understood what it meant when Yuuri had said that his best friend was embarrassing at times.

“You look great in Yuuri’s clothes though,” Phichit commented with a playful wink. “Anyway, are you looking for him?”

Viktor took a deep breath and cursed internally at the fact that sweater was much too small for him to cover up his indecency. “Yeah, I am,” he replied with a faint smile that threatened to pop at the seams and expose his plight.

“Ah, I think he’s already awake this time of day,” Phichit told him. “I can lead you to his quarters if you want.”

“Please.”

“Alright, follow me.” Phichit walked ahead of him and led Viktor to the basement level of the residential quarters via a set of stairs that led beneath the ground floor. They made a left towards a wide, brightly lit corridor and at the end of it was a modest metal door with the numbers “119” adorned to its surface in silver numbers. Phichit took his hand to a panel on the door and typed in the combination for the room. Viktor figured that the two were so close that Phichit could come and go into his quarters as he pleased. The door slid open with a slight hiss and Viktor followed behind him as Phichit stepped inside. Behind them, the door automatically slid closed.

The room was crisp and clean yet sparsely decorated with only a bed, a desk, a drawer and a dresser being the only furnishings inside. On the wall was a flat, wide screen and a speaker with a receiver for him to talk into. Unlike his own room, Yuuri’s had no windows, which made sense as they were beneath the underwater structure. On the desk was a tablet, a computer and a framed picture of what he identified to be his younger self posed with an equally younger Yuuri.

“Oh, that?” Phichit seemed to notice him looking at the photo curiously. “You and Yuuri have known each other since he was nineteen,” he informed him. “You had long hair back and then and Yuuri was pretty sad to see that it had been cut off,” Phichit added with a chuckle. His dark eyes trailed from him and onto Yuuri’s still-sleeping form.

“He loved you, you know,” he looked at his best friend wistfully before glancing towards Viktor. “He still does.”

Every around him had been telling him stories of himself for the entire week and he felt upset a how little he knew about the people in his life, let alone himself. He found it unfair how other people knew more about himself when he knew next to nothing. When no one was looking, he often found himself crying at how so much had been lost to him. He kept smiling, yes, but beneath that disguise lied a deep sadness only he could comprehend. It distraught him to know that he had to start from scratch in establishing connections with the important people in his life.

Yuuri, especially.

Viktor looked at the resistance leader’s resting figure from across the room. His dark locks stuck out on his head awkwardly and his eyes were heavy with sleep as drool trickled down the side of his mouth. He felt a warmth blossom within his chest as if his own heart was saying _“Protect at all costs.”_

He thought he looked adorable.

Oddly enough, despite the fact that Viktor had only been introduced to him recently; or rather, re-introduced, he felt a deep connection drawing him to Yuuri. It was as if a string invisible to everyone but himself had linked them.

Viktor suspected that it had something to do with his subconscious, as if it was trying to bring back what had been lost ever since that fateful day.

As if he had read his mind, Phichit blurted, “Don’t you think his cuteness just makes you want to protect him?”

“You’re sharp,” Viktor commented with a faint grin.

“But of course,” Phichit remarked proudly. “What good would I be as Yuuri’s right-hand man if I was not?”

Phichit chuckled and then walked to Yuuri’s bedside with Viktor trailing behind him. The tan-skinned man produced a tablet from a fanny pack around his waist and crouched down to take pictures of Yuuri’s sleeping face. Viktor figured that he had a lot of embarrassing pictures of Yuuri to use for blackmailing purposes. He let out a hearty laugh as he saw Phichit snap a photo of Yuuri with snot dripping out of his nose. He certainly was not a graceful sleeper by any means.

After a few photos, Phichit, put his tablet back into his fanny pack (Viktor thought that they had gone out of fashion more than three hundred years ago) before zipping it shut.

“Anyway.” Phichit looked at Viktor. “Do you want to wake him up? I bet he’d love to see your face the first thing in the morning.”

Viktor thought that was very cute.

“Oh, and also, Yuuri told me that he’d been dreaming of being woken up by a kiss since you got back,” Phichit confided with an amused grin on his face. “Think of it as payback when he kissed you last time.”  
Viktor’s blue eyes went wide at the recollection.

“As much as I would love to tease him, he told me he would like to take it slow,” Viktor responded with a laugh. He really wanted to get his payback though.

“Ah, if that’s the case, then a kiss on the cheek would do!” The shorter man added enthusiastically. He sounded every bit more excited than Viktor was.

“I like the sound of that,” he smiled at him brightly. Viktor trudged closer to Yuuri’s bedside and crouched down before him. He took in the features on Yuuri’s face—thick, dark eyelashes, creased eyelids that held the most gorgeous brown eyes behind them and the rosy cheeks that looked plush yet sculpted altogether. He also could not help but notice the occasional bubble of snot that would escape from a nostril.

He ran his pale, slender fingers against his dark, messy tresses before leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. Viktor swore he could hear the sound of a shutter going off behind him. As he pulled away from his cheek, his sky-blue eyes met the earth as Yuuri fluttered his eyelids open and squinted against the light.

“Viktor?” His eyes were baggy and droopy from sleep as he sat up on his bed and wiped away the snot and drool on his face. Viktor noticed that the resistance leader turned red. Probably because of the fact that Viktor kissed him on the cheek or he was seen in his ungraceful state of slumber.

Probably both.

“Good morning, Yuuri,” Viktor beamed at him as he got up from his couch. “Did you have a great sleep?” Alright, he took that part about his sadness being disguised by his smiles back. Whenever he saw Yuuri, it was as if all the breath from his lungs had been taken away to be replaced by an air of fondness.

Yuuri yawned loudly as he stretched his arms and legs on the mattress. The dark bags around his eyes were prominent.

“Far from it, actually.”  
“Yeah, that’s what you get for keeping me up all night to tell me about your wildest fantasies with Viktor and must I say, Yuuri, your imagination is very lew—“

“Phichit! He doesn’t need to know about that!” Yuuri practically screamed at his friend as he turned beet-red to his shoulders. Unfortunately for Yuuri, Viktor knew very well what Phichit meant and found himself wondering what those said fantasies were.

Phichit only blew a childish raspberry in response.

“Anyway, beautiful, why don’t you get dressed and get some breakfast? Yurio helped out in the kitchen today and made some pork cutlet pirozhkies.”

Yuuri groaned as he got off his bed and took to the drawer to pull out some clothes. As Yuuri fumbled around, Viktor noticed that the boxers he was wearing had pictures of little cartoon fairies on it.

“Ah, and speaking of clothes,” Viktor spoke up. “Do you want me to return this sweater?” He made a move to tug at the hem of the garment but Yuuri told him otherwise.

“No, you can keep it on,” he replied as he slid on some pants over his legs and threw a jacket over his turtleneck.

“Yeah, right, but I bet he’d love to see you take it off,” Phichit added with an impish snicker.

“Phichit!”

One of Yuuri’s jackets then made its way to his best friend’s face.

 

* * *

 

 The function hall was a large communal area in the facility that could house five hundred people at most. However, since the amount of staff in the resistance numbered to five hundred more past the area’s seating capacity, the hall was bustling with people walking around with trays of food in their hands or gathering around long steel tables with friends. Behind the long buffet-style serving counter, Yuri Plisestky, Leo, Guang-hong, Seung-gil joined with many others were constantly busy between handing out portions to everyone and refilling the containers with food. From the look on their haggard faces, Yuuri figured that they must have not gotten enough sleep like himself as evidenced by the sunken look in their eyes. Making meals for a one thousand strong resistance organization is no feat for the weak, after all.

The room was illuminated with soft, watery light from tall windows that stretched from the black marble floors and up to the ceiling. Yuuri often found it hard to believe that the place used to be one of SCORCH’s sister branches. Outside, rainbow trout glided through the water and gleamed against the ribbons of underwater light. As Yuuri made his way to one of the lines to the serving counter, the staff parted like the biblical Red Sea and bowed their heads down in respect to the resistance leader. But of course, Yuuri was not one for such formalities.

“Please, I already told all of you to treat me just the same as anyone else,” he remarked with a slight chuckle.

 He did not exactly like the idea of a hierarchy within the facility. It made him feel more like a leader on an unreachable pedestal rather than a friend or a brother one can depend on. In fact, Yuuri thought himself to be contrary to the image of a stereotypical leader—bold, confident and proud where he was amicable, reserved and humble. He did not realize, however, that the qualities he possessed were what made his people trust in him. Yuuri was the type of person to not give himself much credit despite all the feats he achieved for the resistance’s cause.

Yuuri stood behind a queue with tray in hand as Viktor, Phichit and Christophe lined up behind him. In front of him was the bright and sprightly Minami Kenjiro who turned around as soon as he sensed Yuuri behind him. He was cheerful, spunky and energetic but most importantly he was one of the resistance’s best snipers. (Who also happened to be a big fan of Yuuri to the point that he got himself a jacket that exactly matched his.)  
“Yuuri!” Minami exclaimed; his blonde red-streaked hair fell over his forehead and flared up into fiery spikes. He beamed at him excitedly and tapped his feet in place before basically bounding towards Yuuri for a hug, knocking off both of their trays in the process.

“Yuuri! I haven’t seen you in three days! Where have you been?” Minami practically screamed at Yuuri’s face, to which he laughed off as one of his fanatic habits. “Did you see me in the shooting range yesterday? I hit all the targets and broke my own record!”

“Ah, I’m sorry.” Yuuri scratched the back of his head apologetically. “I was in my office the entire day sorting out some reports that time.”

Minami backed away from Yuuri and looked visibly distraught from the statement.

“Ah, I see.” The boy faked a sniffle and pouted as he picked up their trays and handed one back to Yuuri. He then turned around and proceeded to sulk.

“Um, Minami-kun…” Yuuri placed a hand on his shoulder to which Minami turned around with pleading eyes. “You can join us at our table, if you like,” he offered with a friendly smile on his face.

Suddenly, the boy perked up and his signature toothy grin made its appearance on his face. “Really?!”

“Mh-hmm!” Yuuri nodded.

“Thank you so much, Yuuri!” Minami leaped in place giddily before turning around as soon as the person in front of him walked out of the queue with a filled tray. Minami stepped out of the line as soon as he got some breakfast on his tray.

“Yuuri, I’m going to find us a table! I’ll see you later!” he waved at him as he walked away in search for vacant tables.

As soon as it was Yuuri’s turn, he placed his tray on the counter. Yuri Plisestky—Yurio, was what Yuuri liked to call him, happened to be one of the servers.

“Seriously, Katsuki,” the blond boy grumbled as he ladled in some curry and rice on his tray and placed two pirozhkies. “You parade Viktor around wearing your clothes?”

The teen raised an eyebrow at the Japanese man.

“Oh, I lent him some of my clothes while his were still getting ready,” Yuuri explained so as to avoid further embarrassment.

Yurio rolled his eyes as he placed a water bottle on his tray. “Jesus, even with his memories lost, you two are practically shoving your love in my face,” Yurio added with thinly concealed disgust.

“Ooh, it looks like someone is salty,” Christophe joked at the boy. For a moment, Yuuri saw a flash of hurt in his eyes only to be quickly replaced with the usual brashness.

“Shut up, old man, you’re only saying that because you haven’t gotten any in months,” the teen retorted with what seemed to be a forced grin.

“Oh, you wound me,” Christophe sighed dramatically as he clutched onto his chest. Viktor and Phichit simply laughed at his antics.

Yuuri stepped out of the line as soon as his tray was laden with food and waited for Phichit, Christophe and Viktor to get theirs. As they made their way to the table that Minami had saved for them, Yuuri looked back and saw a hint of sadness creep up the young boy’s face.He saw a head of bright blond hair streaked with red amidst the crowds and walked towards the table Minami had reserved for them. Yuuri placed his tray on the table with a slight clatter and sat himself between Viktor and Minami, much to the young boy’s delight.

“Thanks for saving a table for us, Minami-kun,” he thanked him with a smile on his face.

“It was nothing! Anything for you, Yuuri!” Minami grinned at him proudly.

 From beneath the table, Yuuri slid his hand on top of Viktor’s and stroked his ring finger absently out of habit, earning himself a curious look from the man seated beside him.

“Yuuri? What are you doing?”

The raven-haired man visibly flinched at the question and drew his hand away from his as his face flushed crimson with embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered as he gripped his hands onto the edge of the table to keep them to himself.

“There’s no need to apologize, Yuuri,” Viktor assured him with what could be the most angelic smile on the face of the earth. “You can do things with me like you used to little by little,” he added with a soothing, velvety voice that only sounded suggestive to his ears. From the corner of the table, he could hear Christophe and Phichit howling.

“Don’t you think it’s weird how Yuuri literally kissed his silver daddy awake and now he’s acting as if he’s still a virgin?” Phichit added with a titter, which only left his friend a flustering mess. Beside him, Viktor was visibly blushing while picking up a pirozhki from the tray and Minami was covering his ears to shield out the profanities being uttered.

“Silver daddy has a really nice ring to it, don’t you think?” Christophe pointed out as he batted an eyelash at Yuuri.

“A-Anyway, let’s just eat now,” Minami blurted out as he clearly looked uncomfortable to be in the presence of such obscenity-spouting adults.

“Good idea, Minami-kun.” Yuuri finished his sentence as he shoved a mouthful of mild curry into his mouth to drown out his embarrassment.

 Beside him, Viktor did the same albeit in a more graceful and refined manner.

If he were to be honest to himself, Yuuri found it unusual that Viktor, although still sweet, was not as talkative and energetic like he used to be. Perhaps it was what he had found out about himself changed that aspect of his personality. He could not even begin to fathom the horrors he had to go through just to be one of SCORCH’s. If there was one thing, he knew, it was that even the brightest and the most promising of people can be dulled down into cinders with fear. He was not so dumb as to see past Viktor’s smiling façade. He knew the man too well to know whether he was alright or not. Whenever Viktor though he was not looking, he would often find him panicked and sobbing his heart out. He saw that Viktor, the life of the party, was now Viktor, who desperately tried to hold himself together while standing at the sidelines. It hurt him to know that the person who had brought so much light into his life has been reduced to nothing more than the dying embers of a fire. Yuuri, however, promised himself that he would light a blaze anew within him. He knew that Viktor did not remember the moments they shared together in the past. Yuuri, on the other hand, kept every second spent with him locked within his heart like a precious treasure. That was enough for him to help Viktor get his life back together and see the man that he always loved be himself once more.

“Yuuri,” Viktor mumbled between bites of pork cutlet pirozhkies. His ethereal blue eyes wandered around the surroundings as if scrutinizing every detail before returning his gaze towards him. “Did this place use to be one of SCORCH’s headquarters?”

“Ah, yes, it was,” he answered before taking a pirozhki and biting on it. “Thirty years ago, my father used to work for SCORCH,” he informed him, leaving a glimmer of curiosity in Viktor’s eyes. “One day, however, my father overthrew this branch and formed this faction of the resistance.”

“Well that explains the familiar décor,” Viktor added with a subdued chuckle. “I always knew the corridors looked similar.”

“But what happened to the combat units?” Viktor asked.

“Oh, Toshiya brought them to his side,” Phichit chimed in. “Yuuri’s old man was very charismatic and convincing when he needed to be.” The young man paused for a moment to take in a spoonful of his food. “Those he didn’t win over, however, well, you get the story.”

Yuuri remembered the tale of his father bringing down the entire headquarters by turning its own units against it, which was one his mother would tell him over and over again when was a child.

“Where are they now?”

“Oh, those who survived are here right now,” Yuuri answered him and then turned towards the table next to them. “See those people? They used to be SCORCH combat units.”

The said combat units smiled and waved at Yuuri and he waved back at them before turning his attention back towards Viktor.

“So did I,” Viktor added bitterly with downcast eyes.

 

* * *

 

 After a few conversation in between bites of their meal, they gradually cleared their trays and each left the vicinity of the function hall to deal with personal matters. Christophe and Phichit left taking Viktor along with them to acquaint, or rather re-acquaint him with the others whereas Minami headed to the shooting range to practice on his aim. As for Yuuri himself, he headed to the kitchen where he saw Yurio almost haphazardly load an industrial-sized dishwasher with used crockery. In the background, Seung-gil, Leo, Guang-hong and the rest were busy cleaning buffet trays and emptying leftovers into sealed plastic containers.

“Yurio, can I speak to you?”

Yurio turned around to face him as he slammed the dishwasher door shut as his hands held onto the handle with a tight-knuckled grip. “Whatever you have to say, say it right here,” the blond teenager muttered lowly as if annoyed by the resistance leader for interrupting his work. The boy’s eyes were puffy and swollen as if he had cried not later than ten minutes ago.

“I know you’re worried about Otabek,” Yuuri started.

The muscles on Yurio’s arms tightened around the handle in a death grip upon the mention of his friend’s name. His green eyes bore holes into the back of Yuuri’s mind. It was a look of fear, of confusion and of worry thinly veiled in anger and frustration.

“I’m sure he’s alright wherever he may be,” Yuuri assured him in the meekest tone he could muster. Despite being younger than him by nine years, there was something in the teen that made him wary and careful of his own words.

“Of course he is,” Yurio scoffed as his fingers unwound from the handle and came to rest on his slender hips. Yuuri could see a glint of doubt in his eyes.

“Look, Yurio,” Yuuri came closer towards the boy and held an arm out, only to draw it back as if hesitating.  “Your friends are worried about you. _I’m_ worried about you.”

A flash of vulnerability came over Yurio’s features.

Yuuri reached out to close his finger around the young boy’s shoulders and swallowed the lump at the back of his throat as he chose his words carefully before speaking.

“If you want someone to talk to then please, talk to me or your friends,” he told him kindly. “It’s sad to see you like this, Yurio.” The man’s lips tugged down into a frown.

For a moment, the blond’s features softened at the older man. Seeing Yurio in a state of unease over his friend reminded him a lot of himself when though Viktor to be gone. Yuuri would not wish it upon the boy that he would feel the same feeling of uncertainty torment his every waking moment. He knew how much Otabek meant to Yurio, he knew that he looked at him with the same fondness as Yuuri himself would towards Viktor.

“I know how it must feel to be worried about someone and not know whether they’re alright or not,” Yuuri added as images of himself lamenting over his supposed loss pricked at his heart. “It hurts not knowing whether they would come back alive or not, I know.”

His voice was trembling. He could see years prickling the corners of Yurio’s olivine eyes. He averted his gaze away from Yuuri as if ashamed to be seen in tears.

“I don’t want anyone, especially you to suffer the way I did.”

Yurio’s tears trickled down his eyes and rolled down his cheeks before drawing his hand up to hastily wipe at his face as if the tears burned his skin.

“So please, Yurio, have a little faith and rely on us more.”

He drew his arms around the boy’s lithe frame in a gentle embrace, his hands rubbing soothing circles against his back. He could feel him tremble beneath his palms as Yurio sobbed silently into the raven-haired man’s shoulder. Suddenly, the room went still around them. When Yuuri looked up, he saw eyes staring at them. The people looked away once Yuuri shot them a brief glance and went on with their individual chores. Yuuri pulled his arms away from the embrace and led Yurio outside the kitchen to talk beside one of the tables in the function hall. Yurio sat at one of the tables and slowly steadied his breathing as he cleared the mist from his eyes. Yuuri sat beside him and wrapped an arm around him to give him a comforting pat on the back.

“Are you okay now?” Yuuri asked him as he pulled his arm away.

Yurio shrugged his shoulders and wiped at his eyes one more time before turning his head to face Yuuri.

“No.”

Yuuri let out a sigh but smiled at the boy sympathetically anyway.

“It’s okay to not feel okay, Yurio,” he brought his arm around him once more and pulled him closer until the boy’s blond head was practically leaning against his shoulder. Unexpectedly, Yurio did not seem to mind the gesture. Usually, he would push someone away or pull himself away whenever someone would initiate contact with him. Perhaps a tender touch was all he needed that moment to calm himself down.

“You don’t have to force yourself to feel okay,” Yuuri continued. “Just know that your friends and I will be there to support you while you gradually do.”

Yurio pursed his lips briefly before curling the corners of his mouth into a faint, appreciative smile.

“It really pisses me off how you seem to know what to say at the right time, you know?” Yurio blurted out good-humoredly before letting out a sound that was halfway between a chuckle and a sob. Yuuri smiled back at him and ruffled at his golden locks much to his mild irritation.

“You’re welcome, Yurio.” The older man let out a soft laugh as the teen shoved his hand away from his head.

The teen chortled and wrapped an arm around the older man’s neck and drove his fist against his head and messing his already unruly hair in the process.

“Ow, ow Yurio, let go!” Yuuri eclaimed in what seemed to both like a whimper and a pained laughter.

Yurio drew his fist away from his scalp and brought both of his arms around Yuuri to embrace him tightly.

“T-Thank you,” the teen hesitantly mumbled against his shoulder before lifting his flushed face up to meet his gaze. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll kill you,” Yurio said in the most non-threatening voice as he knitted his brows together in a poor attempt to seem intimidating.

“Hmm…” Yuuri put a finger to his chin as if deep in thought. “That depends.”

“What?!” The teen’s face began to take on a darker shade of pink.

“Will you give me some of your left over pork cutlet pirozhki?” Yuuri had a sly smirk on his face.

Yurio rose from his seat abruptly and extended his open palm out to Yuuri. “You can have all of them.”

The raven-haired man let out an amused titter and took the boy’s hand to shake it.

“A deal has been reached then.”

Later that day, Katsuki Yuuri gorged himself with pirozhkies while working on important documents until he had the worst constipation in the twenty-six years of his life. Phichit had to cover for him and scolded him about eating too much.

Yurio also took amusement in poking fun at his rounded belly much to Yuuri’s horror.

He had never felt so betrayed in his entire life.

 

* * *

 

Within SCORCH’s specimen room, rows upon rows of glass pods stood out like crystal monoliths reflecting the dim ambient glow of the room. Within one of them was a dark-haired man with a bronzed complexion with a respirator attached to his face. On his left arm was an intravenous line that ran up the length of the capsule and into a fluid-filled bag that hung overhead.

On his lower back were the fresh marks of an iron brand that read:

_31S_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hi this is an obligatory filler chapter while i figure out what to write next.  
> To be honest im just making this up as i go and i don't know if i'll ever finish this or not since I'm not as motivated as I was when I first started this fanfic. This isn't exactly getting a lot of response lmao.  
> I'm now a senior in high school and I the load of work makes me wanna rip my own hair out lol.  
> Not only that, but I always get ideas popping up in my mind and I wonder if i will ever finish anything I start lmao
> 
> Anyway, if you liked what you saw, please leave a kudos and comment!  
> That would be greatly appreciated!
> 
> P.S. I changed the summary of this story since the previous one was too boring


	4. Chapter 4

_To: Katsuki Yuuri_

_Resistance Faction Delta Commander_

_November 4 th, 2316 13:44_

_Subject: Prototype Development_

_Commander:_

_I was tasked to inform you by the Echo Faction Commander Okukawa Minako that the prototype of the electromagnetic pulse-emitting device has finally completed its development. The commander requires you to come by the Echo Faction headquarters in order to discuss matters further. You are to arrive at the premises not later than 19:55 and proceed to the conference hall where the meeting regarding the matter is to take place._

_Your presence is urgently needed._

_Cao Bin_

_Resistance Faction Echo Head Intelligence Officer_

 

* * *

 

 

Katsuki Yuuri exited the message window and placed his tablet inside his coat pocket. The resistance leader was relieved that upon receiving the order that he had already finished looking through important documents and dealt with other matters that needed to be dealt with. However, he knew that upon returning from the Echo Faction resistance headquarters, he would only bring home a new set of things that needed to be done. Not only that, but the trip to and from the resistance headquarters took six hours at most. Being a resistance leader was a heavy duty to uphold and yet it was a duty for the common good all the same.

Yuuri got up from his seat and then turned towards Phichit, his right-hand man (more like glorified secretary) who was backing up files into hard drives.

“Hey, Phichit,” Yuuri called out as he straightened the spectacles on his face.

Phichi looked up from a laptop whose files he was backing up and turned his eyes towards Yuuri as soon as his attention was called.

“I need you to cover for me,” Yuuri stated, to which Phichit rolled his eyes and groaned.

It was going to be the second time he would cover for his friend that week; with the first being Yuuri and the pirozhki incident three days ago.

“What is it this time, Yuuri?” Phichit asked, to which he ended his question with a huff as if to show his exasperation. Phichit may be Yuuri’s best friend but even friends have their limits when it came to covering for a certain doe-eyed resistance leader.

Suddenly, the air was filled with a business-like aura instead of the casual one they both shared. Yuuri shot his friend a serious glance as if to make a point. He meant business.

“It’s urgent,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I was sent a message stating that I should head to the Echo Faction to discuss about some things.”  
“What is it about?” Phichit asked, his voice taking on a cool, serious tone upon the mention of the matter presented to him.

“It’s about the prototype.”

Phichit looked intrigued as he raised an eyebrow at him before nodding in understanding and grinning at him faintly.

“Well if that’s the case, you better get going then,” he added as he glued his eyes back on the screen in front of him, the device casting a blue glow over his tawny features.

“I’ll handle everything while you’re away, alright?”

“Thank you, Phichit,” Yuuri beamed at him gratefully.

When it came to matters such as that, he could rely on no one else but his best friend. With all the favors he had done for him, Yuuri probably owed him a lifetime’s worth of solids.

“Hey, anything for you, Yuuri,” he winked at him playfully and blew a kiss towards his direction.

Yuuri chuckled heartily at the gesture and closed his hand in a fist as if to catch the kiss flying towards his way only to press his palm against his backside.

Phichit gasped in mock horror with his mouth agape.

“And here I thought that you, the light of my life saw me that way,” he declared jokingly as he pretended to wipe away the nonexistent tears that brimmed his eyes.

Yuuri rolled his eyes and let out a huff of laughter at his friend’s silly antics. Leave it to Phichit to turn a serious mood into something bright and funny.

“Just kidding, I know you love me,” Phichit added proudly with a wide, bright smile as he waved his hand in front of himself. “Anyway, Yuuri, you better go now,” he reminded him with a faint titter in his voice. “You wouldn’t want to be late.”

Yuuri walked towards the door and pressed his hand against the identification panel. The door slid open with an electronic buzz as soon as the device scanned the prints of his hand. Before stepping out of the threshold, Yuuri turned around to look at his friend with a grin on his face.

“I’ll see you later, Phichit.”

“Take care, Yuuri!” Phichit waved at him cheerfully.

Yuuri then turned around and stepped out, the door sliding closed automatically behind him as he did so. From there, he walked through a narrow hallway that led to a lift at the end of it. Upon reaching the lift, he fumbled inside his coat pocket and produced a key card to which he pressed its flat surface against a security lock on the door.  The door gave an affirmative beep and the lights on the lock glowed green as the steel doors slid open before him. He stepped inside and selected a floor from a series of buttons on the wall. The door closed as soon as he made his selection and up went the car from the second basement floor to the second floor.

As soon as the car arrived at its destination, it let out a ding as its doors opened to the lounge. The lounge was a wide, open area similar in structure to the function hall. Where there were rows of tables and chairs however, were black plush leather couches and low glass tables. Seated on one of the couches was Georgi reading something on his tablet, on the table top was Yurio playing some cat-themed video game on his device and Viktor was seated on the floor between Mila’s legs as she herself was busy occupying her time by braiding Viktor’s silver fringe into a plait to the side of his head.

Yuuri could not help but let a smile grace over his lips upon recalling how much he used to play with his hair back when it was much longer.

Upon stepping out of the car, everyone turned to look at Yuuri. Viktor got up from his position as soon as he spotted Yuuri and undid the plait on his hair, much to Mila’s dismay. The corners of his blue eyes crinkled as his lips curled into a smile at the young man. His arms flew up from his sides as if to embrace him but stopped, as if hesitating before making up his mind and closing his arms firmly around Yuuri.

“Yuuri,” his lips drew out, emphasizing the ‘u’ in his name.

“You didn’t show up for lunch today,” he whined softly as his nose brushed against the hollow of his neck.

Yuuri felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up on one end and his face feel hot as Viktor’s breath ghosted against his skin. It reminded him of certain matters that ought to return to the back of his mind where they rightfully belonged. It turned out that even after six years of separation and the heavy emotional crisis that bore down on his shoulders, the clingy aspect of his personality never quite left him. If he were to be honest with himself, he always found Viktor to be an enigma. To put it simply, Viktor was a walking contradiction.

He was cheerful yet brooding, open yet full of secrets that Yuuri himself could not even begin to comprehend. He had so many questions in his mind that were simply begging to be answered. The problem, however, was that he was unable to gather up his courage in order to do so. For the meantime, Yuuri thought it best to let Viktor himself reveal the answers to him.

“Viktor,” Yuuri croaked as he regained his composure and unwound his arm from the other man before smiling at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, I had things to deal with, you see,” he reasoned as he looked up into his eyes through his dark lashes.

“Alright then,” Viktor stepped back and breathed in a huff.

“Hey, Katsuki,” Yurio’s voice chimed in as he paused his game and placed his tablet on the tabletop. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on things right now?”

“Yuri, you musn’t be rude to the boss,” Georgi chastised the young boy, to which Yuuri waved off.

“Actually, I _am_ working on things right now,” Yuuri replied. “I received a message from Cao Bin stating that Minako-san asked that I come to the meeting held today.”

“For what?” Mila asked as she stood up from the couch.

“You’ll know when we get there. For now, we have to be on our way to head to their headquarters. The travel will take roughly six hours,” Yuuri informed them.

“That is, if our cover doesn’t get blown when we pass through military checkpoint,” Yurio blurted out as he turned towards Viktor and Yuuri. “SCORCH is practically paying for your heads.”

Yuuri knit his brows together in concentration and crossed his arms for a moment as he considered his way around getting past the checkpoint. Suddenly, a flicker of an idea lit up in his mind. He turned his head sharply and directed his gaze towards Mila.

“Mila, do you know how to remotely disable communications from the checkpoint post?”

Mila bit her lip and hummed before answering.

“Cao Bin taught me how to do it once but I’m afraid I don’t recall all that there is to it.”

“Why don’t you just send him a message asking him how to do it?” Yurio suggested.

“I can’t. If SCORH manages to trace the messages, they’ll just be forced to make breaking into their communications system a harder task to do,” Mila explained.

One can’t be too careful when it came to matters such as security. Yuuri turned towards Mila once more as if pleading. “I’m sure there must be something you can do.”

Mila pursed her lips in a tight line and thought about it for a moment.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

Yuuri breathed in a sigh of relief and smiled gratefully at the young woman. “Thank you so much.”

Yuuri held out his arm in front of himself and checked the time on the display of his wrist watch.

_13:55_

“Now,” Yuuri started as he looked up from his wrist. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

 

The sun had just begun its slow descent to the horizon when they came upon a military checkpoint stationed just in front of the city gates. The landscape was bathed in dusky orange light as the moon slowly began its ascent to take the sun’s place in the sky. After such a long trip, everyone was tired. Yuuri, most of all, was exhausted as he was behind the wheel the entire time. However, driving for six hours straight was a task far easier than defending themselves during SCORCH raids.

Seated beside him on the front, Viktor had just woken up from his nap and stretched out his arms and legs in the cramped seat to loosen the knots in his limbs. He rubbed the sleep away from his eyes and straightened himself up on his seat.

Suddenly, his blue eyes turned sharp and alert.

For a moment, Yuuri saw a flash of fear in his eyes.

“Mila,” Yuuri said as he looked behind the driver’s seat towards her, who was balancing a laptop on her lap as she sat between Georgi and Yurio. “Have you gotten in already?”

Mila furrowed her brows in concentration as she looked at the screen before her. The soft clicking of keys resonated within the vehicle as she typed out several codes to find her way around the digital barriers SCORCH had set up for the checkpoint station before them.

“Just give me a minute,” she muttered as her eyes trained sharply on the series of commands that appeared on the screen. And then, an affirmatory beep.

“I’m in!” she exclaimed proudly with an exalted look on her face. She breathed in a sigh of relief and shut her laptop closed before sliding it bag into its case.

“Good work, Mila,” Yuuri remarked gratefully as e gave her hand a soft pat before turning his head back towards the road before them. He stepped on the breaks and then stopped just a few yards shy before the station.

Before Yuuri could take any further action, he began to devise a strategy as he studied the situation carefully.

_There are two guards stationed in the checkpoint. Both are heavily armed. I can’t get close to attack nor can I fire from this range as they will counter my attack immediately. If I make a long-range attack, then there is a possibility that I will miss the target but if I get within close range, my advances will be deemed useless as they will block it and open fire._

Yuuri was about to inquire the others for their suggestions on how ways to get around the checkpoint when the guards left their post and marched towards the vehicle. Then, an idea flickered to life in his mind. It was not pretty by all means, but an idea all the same

He wrapped his fingers tightly around the steering wheel as he watched the guards close in towards them, their gaits heavy and their glares hostile.

“Katsuki, what are you doing?!” the teen in the back seat shrieked. “Do you want to be fucking shot?!”

The resistance leader tapped his fingers in anticipation against the wheel.

_Two yards_

The guards brought an arm around their rifles.

_One yard_

They unslung the rifles from their shoulders.

_A half_

They began wrapping their fingers around the trigger.

Before he could even hesitate, Yuuri pressed his foot to the pedal and rammed full-speed against the guards, launching them against the pavement. Yuuri winced at what he swore was the sound of bones cracking. As soon as he stepped on the breaks, everyone around him sat still with their mouths agape. They probably thought it uncharacteristic of him to act in such a hasty manner. Georgi, on the other hand, remained unfazed.

Yuuri’s breath cane out in heavy puffs as he pressed his forehead to the wheel to come his nerves down from the sudden (yet much needed) impulse decision which may or may not have cost the lives of two people. SCORCH or not, Yuuri hated taking the lives of others. Seeing what was once alive and moving turn limp and lifeless by his own hands made him sick to his stomach. Although Yuuri had long accepted that taking lives was a necessary evil, there was no helping the guilt that would pool at the pit of his gut or the dead faces that visited his dreams every night.

Yuuri released his firm grip on the wheel and hopped out of the vehicle to assess the damage that had been inflicted upon the two guards. Yuuri held his breath and felt his blood go cold as he pressed his fingers against the pulse point on a guard’s neck. He breathed out a relieved sigh.

_Still alive._

Then the other.

_Alive._

Yuuri felt tears brim at the corners of his eyes and silently thanked the god or deity that could be watching over them. It turned out that the impact was enough to knock two SCORCH units unconscious, but not nearly enough to even kill them. Had the guards been regular humans, however, the fates they met would have been painful and grisly. The worst that could happen to them now was to get sent to prison.

Yuuri could live with that.

He crouched down before the unconscious units and produced a switchblade from his coat pocket. He took one of the guard’s arm and drew the blade out before gliding its tip against his skin, leaving behind a trail of blood as he sliced into his forearm. Yuuri took a deep breath and winced internally as he shoved his fingers into the open incision to yank the tracking chip embedded beneath the skin away. He then flung it to the ground and crushed the chip into indistinguishable shards beneath the soles of his boots.

He looked behind his shoulder and saw shocked expressions (with the exception of Georgi) looking out from the windows of the vehicle. Yuuri gestured the man over, to which he got out of the vehicle and headed towards the resistance leader.

“Georgi, I want you to remove the tracking chip from the other guard,” Yuuri said, his voice hitching as he handed the switchblade to Georgi.

If he were to be frank with himself, the sight of blood made him feel queasy. Seeing crimson incited a dee, visceral feeling to curl deep within his gut and his guilt fester into decay in the deep recesses of his mind. He found it laughable that he, a commander, could not even make a single kill without having as much to lay awake thinking about it at night. His position entailed him to take so he could give and he knew that very well. That, however, did not make him lose his humanity over the inhumanity of it all.

Yuuri took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the guard’s wound to stop the bleeding. He knew that SCORCH units healed fairly quickly, but he opted to go for precautionary measures to be safe.

On the other hand, Georgi removed the tracking chip from the other guard without so much as a flinch before destroying it beneath his feet. Unlike Yuuri, he did not exactly care for precaution and immediately carried the guard to the vehicle where placed his unconscious body in the trunk with ease.

Yuuri turned towards Georgi and gestured him to come closer as he placed his hands under the guard’s armpits. Georgi promptly took to Yuuri’s direction and lifted the unit by the ankles, carrying him to the trunk. Yuuri mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Georgi as he closed the trunk door before heading to their respective places in the vehicle.

Yuuri sat in the driver’s seat and clenched his fists tightly around the wheel, his hands visibly trembling. Even though Yuuri knew that the guards were alive, there would be no telling if the both of them would survive.

As if seeing his unease, Viktor placed a steady hand over Yuuri’s, unmindful of the blood that caked his skin.

The look in his blue eyes were mournful, sympathetic.

_He understood._

The corners of his thin lips turned into a sad, yet knowing smile.

 _“I know how you feel,”_ his eyes seemed to say.

Just as Viktor was drawing his hand away from Yuuri’s, Yuuri placed his own over Viktor’s, pinning his hand in place against his seat.

“No.” His trembling fingers grew firm around his hand. His breath started to hitch. “Don’t let go.”

That was stupid. What he said was stupid. Why would Viktor ever want a pathetic excuse of a human being such as himself? He sounded too forceful, too demanding. Viktor must have thought of him badly by then. Why would anyone want to touch him?

_Why would anyone hold the hand of a murderer—_

Viktor threaded his long, slender fingers through the gaps of Yuuris and closed his warmth around his, his hand a tender weight against his.

 The melancholy from his smile melted away to reveal warmth, comfort.

_Empathy._

“I won’t, Yuuri.”

 

* * *

 

 

An hour after entering the city gates, they found themselves in the back alley of a shabby, decrepit part of town. Yuuri parked the vehicle behind a gray, nondescript building whose unremarkable façade could pass of as just one of the many buildings in town with boarded-up windows and graffiti-littered walls and garage doors. It had been two years since the last time Yuuri had visited the place. Not much changed except for the number of colorful scrawling that covered the buildings in the alleyway. The street was still filthy, the air the same dank, fetid stench that would permeate into the nostrils of those unfortunate enough to breathe it.

Yuuri’s nose crinkled at the faint reek of decay coming from one of the gutters. Yurio visibly recoiled and gagged upon discovering that the source of the offending odor was the decomposing body of a cat. Mila made a retching sound and pinched her nose whereas Georgi remained unaffected as he sat inside the driver’s seat.

Viktor, on the other hand.

Viktor kept his fingers locked against Yuuri’s, his hand a firm and steady presence in his palm.

“Just when I thought there couldn’t be anything more gross than this place,” Yurio groaned, feigning disgust as he covered his nose.

Yuuri felt an awkward smile creep up his face as color rushed to his pallor cheeks, turning his skin a slight pinkish tinge.

“Viktor, you can let go now,” he said as he wriggled his fingers in Viktor’s grip.

“Are you sure?” Viktor had the most concerned look in his eyes, as if hesitating to even deprive Yuuri of the contact between them.

Yuuri nodded and the warmth of his hand left his.

He stepped forward and climbed the front porch of the building to rap his knuckles against the black steel door. Then, a small rectangular panel on the door slid back to be greeted by a pair of dark angled eyes staring back at him.

“State your business,” the voice from the other side of the door was low and gruff, but familiar all the same as it rang in Yuuri’s ears.

“When man tasted of the fruit of knowledge, he set fire to the tree of life,” he spoke the archaic, if not poetic passage that had been taught to associates of the resistance to distinguish themselves from the common folk and from SCORCH if they paid each other a visit. It, too, served as some sort of filter to know which people to let in and which to keep out.

Yuuri figured that whoever came up with the password must have been very religious if not well-versed when it came to religious scriptures.

Religion was not exactly commonplace in a world whose inhabitants heralded themselves to be the likenesses of gods. There remained a small minority, however, whose beliefs remained unwavering much to the chagrin of common society.

In an era where humanity played god, the world had no need to humble themselves before a concept wrought on by superstition and unanswered questions.

Yuuri, however, thought otherwise.

Although he himself was not religious in nature, he believed that humanity’s pride and ambition will soon to be its downfall.

Just as the tower of Babel scattered all of humanity, civilization, too, will crumble under the weight of its pride and fall from the height of its lofty ambitions.

The eyes behind the panel crinkled into a smile and the man behind the door let out a chuckle. The garage door let out a loud, rattling noise as it rolled up to reveal not much but an empty space whose walls were littered in tools and little trinkets. Yuuri thought that it was a clever disguise to hide the true purpose of the building.

The panel in the door slid closed and quickly enough, the same eyes reappeared in the garage as soon as they stepped in, vehicle included.

“Nice to see you again, Yuuri.” The figure at the end of the hall was stocky and of average built and had dark hair that tapered at pointed ends. He walked towards Yuuri and then clapped his back casually before stretching his arm out to shake his hand.

“You too, Nishigori,” Yuuri replied hastily and smiled faintly at him. He wanted to cut the pleasantries short and make sure that the guards back in the vehicle were attended to as soon as possible. The color that had dusted his cheeks dulled down.

“Nishigori,” Yuuri began. “We have two injured men in the back and I want them to be attended to immediately.”

He swallowed the lump at the back of his throat and kept his hands glued firmly to his sides. Picking up his distress, Nishigori nodded silently in understanding and spoke into the microphone of his earpiece.

“Medics will be waiting for us once we get off the lift,” he told Yuuri as soon as he finished his conversation with the person on the other line.

“What lift?” Mila asked, her eyes wandering around the unsuspecting space.

“This lift,” Nishigori replied in a deadpan tone as he pressed a discreet button hidden behind the tool shelf.

Without warning, the floor withdrew from the wall and descended into a vertical shaft. Yuuri could make out the sound of Mila and Viktor’s surprised gasps and of Yurio’s shriek. Yuuri stayed still on his feet as the platform moved down to who knew how many floors; his body felt lighter, almost weightless at the descent.

After a few seconds, the lift dinged to a stop behind a set of heavy steel doors. Beside which was a biometrics scanner. Nishigori placed his hand on the screen and the lights blinked green as soon as identification was confirmed. Not long after, the door slid open to reveal medical staff dressed in crisp white scrubs. Georgi drove the vehicle out of the lift and then rolled down the window to tell the staff about the guards in the back.

Quickly, the medics took to the trunk and carefully removed the injured men before wheeling them away on gurneys.

Yuuri sincerely hoped that both of them would survive.

Nishigori sighed and crossed his arms as he looked at him disapprovingly.

“Yuuri, be careful,” he warned him, his voice taking on a cautious tone. “One day, your compassion might just kill you.”

He knew Nishigori was right.

“How long do you intend to keep looking out for the enemy?” His eyes darted towards Viktor seated behind the driver’s seat and to Viktor.

“Sometimes, I really worry about you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri bit on his lower lip and hid his downcast eyes behind his lashes as he replied, “You don’t have to.”

Nishigori heaved in a defeated sigh as he turned on his heels. There was no stopping the sympathy Yuuri felt even towards his foes and his guilt breathing against his neck with each life ended by his own hands.

“Anyway, follow me,” Nishigori walked ahead of them, to which they trailed behind him. “I’ll lead you to the commander.” He led them through the wide, spacious hall and took towards a set of heavy glass doors.

“26A, park the vehicle in the garage,” Nishigori barked as he looked behind his shoulder, to which Georgi did not respond.

“He goes by Georgi now, Nishigori,” Yuuri corrected him.

Although he and Nishigori were good friends, he still could not shake off the unease he felt towards his thinly veiled prejudice towards former SCORCH units. Nishigori simply grunted out in response.

“Georgi, please park the vehicle in the garage,” Yuuri requested in a tone that contrasted Nishigori’s curtness. “I presume you still remember the way?”

From inside the vehicle, Georgi gave an affirmatory nod before excusing himself to the (real) garage.

Yuuri, along with his group, walked towards the glass doors and halted to a stop when he felt Viktor tugging at his sleeve.

“Yes, Viktor?”  
“I didn’t know Georgi used to be one of SCORCH’s,” he commented, the look in his eyes that of disbelief. “How come I didn’t see him there?”

“Oh, well…” Yuuri turned around to meet Viktor’s gaze. It was one thing to tell people about himself but another thing entirely to divulge information about others. “I don’t know if he’s alright with me talking about it, so I think it’s best if you ask him for yourself.”

“Alright then.” The both of them resumed their pace. And then, another question. “Do you and Nishigori not get along?”

From afar, he could spot Nishigori cock his head around at the mention of his name before turning to face the front to pull at the handle on the glass doors, letting himself and the others that trailed behind him inside. Then, they found themselves inside a dimly-lit corridor that led to the ubiquitous set of heavy steel doors.

“We do, but….” Yuuri trailed off as he glued his eyes to his thumbs. “He worries for me too much. Says that I’m too soft,” he added.

In fact, he was often criticized by others on how civil he was in a time that required the survival of SCORCH’s opponents. With him taking in enemies in the picture, their goal could only be compromised. His faction of the resistance basically consisted of forty percent former SCORCH units and counting. Someday, there will have to come a time to abandon his humanity for the sake of his cause.

Yuuri hoped that he would not live to see that day.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Yuuri,” Viktor muttered lowly as his fingertips brushed against the back of his hand, his eyes reflecting the soul of the man whose actions weighed heavy within his heart. If it was anyone who understood the battle between his morality and his purpose, then it was Viktor.

“But if you weren’t soft, Yuuri,” Viktor added as he smiled painfully sweet at him. “We wouldn’t have met each other.” His fingers found their way to lace with his and Yuuri let out a content sigh as he felt his warmth seep into his palm.

“I wish I could be as strong as you, Yuuri.”

He, a man who could not even sleep without the faces of the dead haunting him was strong? Rather than contradicting Viktor’s kind words, he smiled back at him meekly and thanked him.

Nishigori stopped before the steel doors and pressed his hand against the scanner on the wall to allow themselves entrance to the room. Yuuri and the group stepped inside and found themselves in a wide conference room with long, elevated concentric benches surrounding a podium at the center. On the seats sat the different resistance commanders and their associates.

Yuuri found an empty seat beside a middle-aged man he identified to be the Alpha Faction resistance commander and sat himself beside him. Behind him, Mila, Yurio and Nishigori sat themselves at a bench from the last row. Viktor, on the other hand, sat beside Yuuri.

“Is this another one of your rescues?” The man beside him remarked with a chuckle as he took a glance towards Viktor’s direction.

He was a charismatic middle-aged man in his fifties with youthful green eyes and thick auburn hair lined grey with age. Unlike most of the resistance leaders, he was one of the few who understood Yuuri the most. Celestino Cialdini was his name and Yuuri happened to be comfortable talking with him.

“Oh, this is Viktor,” Yuuri replied as he smiled at him faintly.

“Nice to meet you, my name is Viktor,” he introduced himself politely with an outstretched arm.

“Celestino.” He took his hand and shook it firmly before turning his attention back towards Yuuri. “Haven’t I seen him before?”

“Oh, you have?”

“I think so,” he answered as he pressed a finger to his chin. “I think I remember seeing a long-haired young man before. If I’m not mistaken, that was six years ago, right?”

Yuuri simply nodded his head in response.

“I was wondering,” Celestino propped up his chin against his hand. “How come I haven’t seen him for a while after that?”

The question sent the blood in his veins freezing.

“Well, that’s…” Yuuri trailed off and pursed his lips in a tight line.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Celestino told him, his green eyes knowing. “You know what SCORCH does to its prisoners, don’t you?”

From the corner of his eye, he could sense Viktor stiffen up beside him. The day after Viktor was found, news of SCORCH’s heinous deeds concerning its prisoners spread among the resistance factions like wildfire. What most of them did not know, however, was the former SCORCH unit that relayed the information. For Celestino, however, it was an entirely different case.

He was sharp.

“I do,” he gulped down the lump in his throat.

Before their conversation could escalate even further, Commander Okukawa stepped into the conference room and took her place on the podium. Everyone in the room went still as they directed their individual attentions towards the middle-aged woman.

“Good evening, everyone,” she greeted the audience as she paced before a wide screen. “I apologize for having to make you all come all the way here on such short notice.”

Commander Okukawa produced a remote from her back pocket and switched on the screen behind her to display an image of what looked like a prototype of some sort of device.

“Now, I’m sure you all know what this is.”

The contraption was round in shape, coated with a silvery aluminum coating and dotted with a few glowing diodes and a singular red button at its side. It was a weapon mention to him in the message sent to him—an electromagnetic pulse-emitting device.

The audience leaned back in their seats and kept their attention glued to the screen as Commander Okukawa hovered her hand over the screen and swiped it back to switch to the next slide.

“As you all may know, the EMP-emitting device is still in its prototype stage of development,” she continued. “Once our skilled technicians have made a few tweaks in its mechanism, then the weapon will be set for mass production not later than a month after successful testing.”

To Yuuri, knowing that the means to topple SCORCH off its proverbial throne was just a reach away simply felt surreal. Finally, after long years of losing and taking, the war between the two opposing forces would soon be put to an end once and for all.

That, however, meant that it was easier said than done.

It was the government they were fighting against and the resistance was but a tiny nuisance in SCORCH’s grand scheme of things. How could an army of thirty-thousand possibly hope to fare against such a forbidding enemy?  
Yuuri shook his head and clenched his fists tightly.

No, he needed not think of the unpleasant possibilities that may or may not come their way. What mattered was that they were a step closer in achieving their goals. He was certain that there were obstacles to be faced such as in the case of every existing problem. It would be nothing, however, compared to the results their hard work would bring forth.

_The end, after all, justifies the means._

Yuuri felt a shiver run down his spine as glassy dead eyes bore into the back of his mind.

“Yuuri, are you okay?” Suddenly, he found Viktor’s pale hand on his shoulder, his touch soothing as his unfairly beautiful features contorted in worry. When he had looked up, he saw that Commander Okukawa was already a few slides into her presentation.

“Yes, Viktor,” he sighed appreciatively at his touch as his thoughts pulled themselves back into the present. “I’m alright.”

Viktor drew his hand back and placed it on his lap as he eyed Yuuri with concern before drawing his blue eyes back to the screen. The slide showed an early sketch of the device describing its effectivity radius.

“The device, when enabled either remotely or manually, will send out a wave of electromagnetic pulse that will affect any and all electronics within a hundred-yard radius,” Commander Okukawa explained. “And what are SCORCH units made out of?” she added with a knowing smirk. “Flesh and circuits, of course.”

Then, the raise of a hand.

“Yes, Mr. Brundel?”

The balding middle-aged man named Mr. Brundel got up from his seat and opened his mouth to speak.

“Are you certain that this will work?” He looked skeptical, if not a little unconvinced. “Have there been any cases in history wherein electronics were affected by EMPs?”

Yuuri thought Mr. Brundel clueless.

“Good question, Mr. Brundel,” Commander Okukawa replied and switched to a slide of a black and white news clipping from four hundred fifty-seven years ago.

 “The Carrington event,” she started. “Occurred September 1st, 1859. Nearly five hundred years ago.”

Yuuri recalled having heard about it once but it vaguely registered in his memory. It was most likely because he never paid any real attention to his lessons when he was younger.

“A series of powerful coronal mass ejections hit the earth head-on as a result of an X-class solar flare from the sun.”

The screen switched to a slide of a looping clip of a flare extending into wispy tendrils on the surface of the sun.

“And because of the electromagnetic interference, telegraph lines short-circuited and caught on fire, causing widespread communication outage as a result,” she added. “Not only that, but since the solar flare was so powerful, auroras could be seen as far as Sub-Saharan Africa and latitudes close to the equator.”

Yuuri wondered as to how such an event would impact life as they knew it when applied to the current era.

“So if we were to contain this power in a localized area and use it as an offense, it would no doubt shut down SCORCH’s communication systems and its units.”  
“Don’t nuclear weapons produce the same results?” A voice from the audience asked.

“Although the EMP it emits can definitely disable electronics, the blast from a nuclear warhead would be much too dangerous,” she replied grimly. “Not only would the costs be too large, but we would also have to deal with the resulting fallout following the blast.”  
Then, there was nodding among the audience as they discussed among themselves.

“As for the EMP-emitting device on the other hand, it is safe to those that are not mechanized.”

Yuuri could have sworn that Commander Okukawa looked at him.

When Yuuri glanced to his right, Viktor was pursing his lips tightly.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” Yuuko told him regretfully. Her eyes were downcast as her hands laid on top of her round belly. “One of them didn’t make it.”

Yuuri swallowed back the hot bile that threatened to rise at the back of his throat. His body went rigid and his eyes went wide.

“The other survived but sustained multiple fractures to the ribs and suffered internal bleeding,” she continued. “He’s in a comatose state and we don’t know when or if he will ever wake up at all.”

He felt his chest tighten and his breath hitch. His fists trembled at his sides as his nails dug deep into his palms to leave them bleeding.  
“How did the other one die?” Yuuri asked her bitterly as he felt tears begin to prickle at the corners of his eyes. He regretted asking that question.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri. He bled out too much before we could even save him.”

_Yuuko shouldn’t be apologizing._

_He should have been the one asking for forgiveness._

Before he could even risk breaking into a sob in front of Yuuko, he hastily turned away from her and darted his way out of the emergency hall, up the main hall and out of the complex entirely and exiting at the garage entrance. He weaved his way through the dark alleyways as the moonlight helped little to conceal the tears that burned against his cheeks. His knees gave out beneath him and he slumped his form up against a dumpster as his lungs burned hot and his throat go sour. Gripping onto the ledge of the dumpster tightly, he tipped his head forwards to empty the contents of his stomach into the bin.

No matter how much he retched and vomited, he could not empty himself of his sins.

He felt vile. Repulsive.

He was no better than the very foes he fought against.

He took the life of an enemy but it was a life taken all the same by his own sinful fingers.

He could feel the blood on his hands and feel it seep into his skin and burrow into the depths of his mind.

_Murderer._

His shoulders heaved and trembled as his breath came out ragged and his vision cloud with tears.

Something trivial as taking an enemy’s life shouldn’t weigh heavily in his conscience.

But oh, it did.

Five years of leading the resistance and he still could not bear to look at the blood on his hands.

_Pathetic._

_Pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic—_

A hand found its way to his face and the air in his lungs was replaced by an intoxicating fragrance.

 _“This is it,”_ he thought.

An unremarkable end for an unremarkable man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. "When humanity ate of the fruit of knowledge, he set fire to the tree of life."- This a reference to the creation story Genesis 3:6 when Adam and Eve ate of the tree that God told them not to.  
> 2\. The Tower of Babel- It is an origin myth in Genesis 11:1-9 that explained why people had many different languages. After the generations that followed the Great Flood, a united humanity set out to build a tower tall enough to reach the heavens God, upon observing the tower, confounds their speech so that humanity could no longer understand each other and scattered them out to the world.  
> 3\. The Carrington Event- A powerful geomagnetic storm that occurred from September 1-2, 1859 named after Richard C. Carrington. The geomagnetic storm most notable for causing telegraph systems all over Europe and North America to fail, and even gave operators electric shocks and caused telegraph pylons to spark. A storm of a similar magnitude barely missed the earth during 2012.
> 
> Hello I'm so sorry if the update came in later than expected! ;-;  
> There were a lot of things to deal with in life but oh well, at least I managed to still write this chapter, right? :D  
> Anyway, this is my longest chapter to date and it took me a while (emphasis on while) to finish it.  
> If you liked what you read, please leave kudos and a comment below!
> 
> Also, I just recently made a tumblr account! :D  
> Follow me at salty-chattoyant.tumblr.com for updates or if you just want to discuss about our Lord and Savior Yuuri Katsuki


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